A Wish Your Heart Makes
by Chelles
Summary: We all have our own life to pursue, our own kind of dream to be weaving. And we all have some power to make wishes come true, as long as we keep believing. - Louisa May Alcott Response to GSRFO May/June Challenge
1. Chapter 1

A/N: If you asked me two months ago what my 30th (!) fanfic would look like, I never would have said it would be A/U. But, here we are, at fic number 30, and it's an A/U response to the GSRFO May/June Challenge. I took the Royal Wedding prompt.

To give fair credit, I am borrowing some ideas from the Spanish royal family. I lived in Spain during the year after Prince Felipe and Princess Letizia got married, so portions of what you'll read in subsequent chapters come from some of what I observed while I was there. And, of course, plenty is borrowed from my very US view of the British royal family. And, finally, as always, I do not own anything related to CSI.

This is my very first A/U story, and I really hope you'll enjoy it. As much as I've taken the characters outside their normal playground, I'm trying very, very hard to be true to who they are. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Explain to me again why I'm doing this."

Nick looked at his friend and coworker and chuckled. "Because something like one person a year receives this award. Going to the ceremony is a big deal."

"_Exactly_ one person a year receives this award," Greg corrected. "And, you have to be invited to the ceremony. If you aren't invited, you're stuck watching it at home."

"Or, not at all."

"Aw, Sara, come on …"

Sara rolled her eyes. "The Prince of Graccia Award, though? Really? Why, exactly, is that his title? The country is called Vespuccin, not Graccia."

Nick looked at her in disbelief. "You _did_ grow up here, right?"

"The Prince of Graccia is called that because it was the original name of the kingdom before it was invaded, reconquered and then expanded," Greg explained. "It is the title given to the crown prince or princess, who will inherit the throne upon the current monarch's death."

"She knows that," Jim said. "She's just being difficult."

"And, she's an anti-monarchist," Sara added helpfully.

"Well, you may not like the monarchy, but I know you like being employed," Jim said. "And, no matter what these two tell you about the Prince of Graccia Award, here's what it comes down to: Ecklie is receiving the award. Ecklie is my boss. I am your boss. We all want to keep things that way, so we are all going to the ceremony." He looked straight at Sara. "Am I right?"

Sara sighed, knowing exactly what Jim was implying. She needed to stay on Ecklie's good side after what had happened during their last case. "You're right," she acknowledged.

"And, we are going to be _pleasant_," Jim added.

"Fine," she said with a sigh. She paused in front of the locker room mirror to pull her hair back into a ponytail. "I'm ready."

Nick and Greg exchanged a look and shook their heads.

"What?" Sara asked.

Greg looked at her in amused disbelief. "You put on that knock-out dress, then put your hair in a ponytail?"

"Yeah," Sara said, looking at him as though confused.

"But …"

Nick clapped his hand down on Greg's shoulder. "Let it go, man. Just let it go."

* * *

><p><em>Royal Palace, Wendelsburg<em>

"You do realize how much I hate doing these things, right?

"You do realize that it's about five minutes out of your day, right?"

"Wrong," Gil said flatly. "There will be at least five minutes of pictures after the five minute ceremony – which could be longer if the acceptance speech is longer – , followed by at least fifteen minutes of people shaking my hand."

Catherine chuckled. "Oh, the rough life you lead, Your Majesty."

"That's Father, not me." He looked a little pale. "And, God willing, it will stay that way for quite some time."

"Sorry." She smiled. "You know that Father is as healthy as he ever was. I'm sure you've got a long road of being Prince of Graccia ahead of you."

Gil smiled slightly. "Which I would enjoy considerably more if it weren't for things like today." His eyes lit up. "You could go for me, you know."

"Oh, no, I couldn't. It's called the 'Prince of Graccia Award,' not the 'Prince of Graccia's Younger Sister Award.' You have to be there."

"Please, Catherine? Everyone loves you more than me."

"No, they don't. Not even _Grandmother_ loved me more than you, and I was named for her. If the people love me at all, it's because I'm married and have a child – which, I believe, is some small relief to them."

He rolled his eyes. "Are we having this conversation again?"

She stood up and smiled. "No. I'll leave it to Mother."

"You're too good to me."

She leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "Get ready. The ceremony starts in half an hour."

* * *

><p>Sara sat in the second row for the ceremony, sandwiched between Greg and Nick. She had deliberately made sure she was not sitting next to Jim. It wasn't that she intended to be <em>un<em>pleasant during the ceremony, but she was concerned that a less than complimentary comment might slip out in his hearing. Ecklie's family – his wife, two daughters, brother and mother – were seated in front of them, which Nick reminded her with a pointed look. She sighed. _So much for any hope of commentary … _

Promptly at two thirty, amid many camera flashes, the Prince of Graccia made his way to the podium. He gave a small smile to those gathered before him.

"Good afternoon," he said in a rich, mellow voice. "We have come together today to honor the accomplishments of Conrad Ecklie, Commander of the International Police Force. He has spent a great deal of time this year working with the people of Haiti as they rebuild their nation after a devastating earthquake. His tireless efforts, as well as those of his team, have helped to keep the country peaceful, and to ensure that all reconstruction and recovery projects have been allowed to progress without interruption."

He paused, and glanced around the small crowd. His eyes fell on a young woman, seated in the second row, who was watching him with wide eyes. She appeared to be drinking in his every word. He almost frowned at the look on her face – it was a look that was almost always given to his father, but almost never to him.

Then, allowing his gaze to open, he realized how lovely she was. Beautiful, really. He wondered who she was …

A discreet cough behind him told him that he had paused too long. He swallowed and closed his eyes briefly to take his focus away from the woman in the second row.

"As one would expect from an officer of the law, Commander Ecklie was tasked with preserving order while in Haiti," he continued with his memorized speech. "He performed his duties admirably; the crime rate was cut by nearly 50 percent during his tenure. However, that is far from all he did.

"Commander Ecklie himself aided in the physical reconstruction of the Haitian capital. He, along with his team, helped to rebuild both the hospital and school that once stood in one of the poorest sections of Port au Prince. He also worked closely with both medical staff and clergy to make sure that hospitals and field hospitals were working to their full potential." He smiled slightly. "I can say from personal experience that he was not above calling us here in Vespuccin to ask for additional resources when they were necessary."

The crowd smiled appreciatively.

"Commander Ecklie, I salute you for your efforts over the past year," the Prince said. "You have gone above and beyond the call of duty, and we thank you for allowing the spirit and generosity of Vespuccin to be felt so far away. I hereby present you with the Prince of Graccia Award as some small compensation for all you have done."

Ecklie shook the Prince's hand and accepted the award. The Prince then stepped back so that Ecklie could make an acceptance speech.

Sara did not hear a word of it. She was too focused on the man who had presented the award to worry about the man who had received it.

She had already known that the Prince of Graccia was handsome. His picture, like those of the rest of his family, could be found in any one of a hundred places around town. And, she, like all the citizens of Vespuccin, received a holiday greeting card from the royal family annually, generally bearing a picture of all of them together. Photographic evidence aside, she knew that the magazines would not have proclaimed him "Europe's Most Eligible Prince" if he had not been attractive.

But, to see him in person …

She was stunned by _how_ attractive he was. She could not stop looking at his eyes. From her second row seat, she could see how blue they were – they reminded her of the ocean she had looked at so frequently while they were working in Haiti.

Physical attributes aside, his speech had dazzled her. He had not used so much as a notecard to remind him of what he was to say, but had managed to detail Ecklie's accomplishments – _the team's accomplishments_, as Ecklie was saying in his acceptance speech – amazingly well.

She had to meet him. She had to talk to him – to tell him how impressed she was with his speech.

"Hey," she whispered, nudging Nick, "do you think we'll get to talk to him?"

"Ecklie?" he asked. "More than we'd like, I'm sure."

"No, not –"

Applause broke out again as Ecklie ended his speech. Sara and Nick stopped their whispered consultation to join in.

"Thank you again, Commander, for your service," the Prince said.

Those words were a clear signal that the ceremony had ended. There was a moment of general commotion as the attendees left their chairs and were ushered into the next room for a reception.

After having done so many of these ceremonies, Gil was well acquainted with the program. He gave a speech and the award, listened to the recipient's speech, took pictures at the podium with the recipient, then followed the others into the second room for the reception. He would greet as many people as possible, pose for a few more pictures, then, just before the gathering ended, he would be hurried away by his security detail. Because this ceremony was at the palace and she had been there earlier, Catherine would likely be waiting to greet him and to hear all about the ceremony. He had begun giving the Prince of Graccia Award at the age of 18, and nothing had changed in the program since then.

For the first time, he wanted to change it.

He did not want to stay and pose for pictures with Commander Ecklie. He wanted to follow the rest of the guests into the reception room. He wanted to find the woman from the second row – the one with the big brown eyes and the ponytail. He wanted to find out her name. Who she was. Why she was here. If she would have dinner with him.

He blushed slightly as the last thought crossed his mind. He could not remember the last time he had asked a woman to have dinner with him. He had certainly never asked a woman to have dinner with him without knowing in advance that she would say yes. The very idea of asking this woman such a question was terrifying.

And, yet …

He wanted to try.

* * *

><p>"So," Greg said as they accepted glasses of champagne from a woman passing with a tray, "what did you think of your first Prince of Graccia Award ceremony?"<p>

Sara rolled her eyes. "Look, Mr. Experience, I'm pretty sure it was _your_ first, too."

"Yes, but, unlike you, I read up on it before we went."

"Or, you, unlike Sara, paid attention in school," Nick said with a chuckle. "Honestly, Sara, you're acting like you have no idea how things work in this country."

"I think that things like this are …" Sara's voice trailed off as the memory of the Prince's blue eyes flashed in her mind.

"Antiquated?" Jim provided. "You tell us all the time."

Sara smiled helplessly. It was true: she _did_ believe that the idea of the monarchy was antiquated. The country was governed by elected officials; the monarchs did little other than provide a link to a bloody, violent, inbred past. She could not understand the country's fascination with them.

Yet, she also could not understand how someone like the Prince of Graccia could be considered antiquated, bloody, violent or inbred – even by someone like her.

* * *

><p>The photos finally ended, and Gil led the Commander to the reception room.<p>

"Thank you again, Your Highness," Ecklie said as they passed from one room to the next.

"No," Gil said sincerely, "thank _you_, Commander. I meant what I said. You brought the spirit and generosity of our country to Haiti in a way that I and my family were not able. For that, we are very, very grateful."

Ecklie smiled and gave a bow. "Your Highness."

"Commander."

Ecklie was set upon immediately by several from his team. Thrilled with the freedom of having a moment to look around the room, Gil searched for the woman from the second row. He could not find her immediately, and felt a moment of panic that she had already gone.

He crossed the room to find his head of security standing by the main door. "Hello, Harold."

"Your Highness," he said, bowing slightly. "Everything is going exactly according to plan."

Gil nodded his approval. "Has anyone left the reception?"

"No, Sir, not yet. You can greet as many as you'd like."

He nodded again. "Thank you, Harold."

He turned away from Harold and surveyed the room. _She has to be here … somewhere …_

* * *

><p>As soon as Ecklie came into the room, the rest of the team surged toward him, eager to offer their congratulations. Sara faded back, not wanting to be any closer to Ecklie than she needed to be. He still wasn't thrilled with her for going against him on their most recent case since returning from Haiti. The fact that she had been right only made it worse. Part of her knew that he would want to have her congratulations on his award. And, she would, indeed, congratulate him. She would just prefer to do it in a card. He knew that she was at the ceremony. That would have to be good enough for now.<p>

She found her way to the far corner of the room, where a window looked down on the most amazing garden she had ever seen. Just stopping herself from gasping, she stared out the window until she almost felt mesmerized.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Sara jumped and turned to see the Prince of Graccia standing next to her. She gasped and immediately dropped into a curtsey.

"Your Highness."

He smiled as she rose up to meet his eyes. "May I know your name?"

"Sara," she said, her cheeks flushing at his attention.

"Just Sara?"

"Sara Sidle."

"It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Sidle," he said.

"It's very nice to meet you as well, Sir."

"How do you know the Commander?" he asked, nodding in Ecklie's direction.

"I'm a member of his team," she said. "I'm a forensic scientist."

Gil's eyes widened. "You were in Haiti with him?"

"Yes."

He reached out to shake her hand. "Thank you, Ms. Sidle, for all you've done for the people of Haiti on our behalf."

She blushed an even deeper shade of red. "I merely did my job, Sir."

"Even if you did not choose that particular assignment, you did choose a profession that provides a valuable service. It is a very noble thing to choose to help others."

"Thank you."

He smiled sadly. "Sometimes I wish …"

Sara desperately wanted to ask him to finish the statement, but knew she could not.

"Well," he said, collecting himself. "Have you been to a ceremony like this one before?"

"No," Sara said. "Your speech was just wonderful, though. You recalled all the details so well. It was very impressive."

He smiled slightly. "My one talent: memorization. I've been working on committing that speech to memory for two days. I'm glad to see that it was time well spent."

"It certainly was."

"Your Highness?"

Gil looked up at the words from Harold. "Yes, Harold?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir, but we need to move out."

Gil nodded. "I understand."

"I'll be over here, Sir."

As Harold walked a few steps away, Gil turned to Sara. "I'm sorry to have to leave you so soon, Ms. Sidle. It has been a pleasure."

"Sara," she almost stammered. "Call me Sara, Your Highness."

He smiled. "Then, you must call me Gilbert – Gil, if you'd like."

All the color drained from Sara's face, then returned in full force. "Okay," she managed to choke out.

He gave her a smile and a wink. "Until next time."

He vanished before her eyes, converged upon by the security detail that would move him safely to the residential part of the palace.

Sara stood rooted to her spot, unable to move even after he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for your kind response to the first chapter! I hope you enjoy this one as much.

* * *

><p><em>Private Residence, Royal Palace, Wendelsburg<em>

As Gil had anticipated, Catherine was waiting for him in the kitchen after the Prince of Graccia Award ceremony. He gave her a smile.

"Where's Matilda?" he asked, referring to the cook.

"Out shopping," she said.

"And, Mother and Father?"

"Still in Italy for that state dinner." Catherine grinned. "We're on our own for now."

Grinning, Gil opened the nearest cupboard and took out two glasses. Catherine was already uncorking a bottle of wine. While she poured their drinks, Gil rummaged through the cupboards until he found fruit, cheese and fresh bread for their snack.

"So," Catherine asked, taking a sip of her wine, "how was it?"

Gil waved his hand dismissively. "The usual. Speeches. Photos. Mingling. You know that I hate that part, right?"

"Yes," she said slowly, studying him carefully.

"What?" he asked, feeling uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny.

"You look … different," she said. She narrowed her eyes. "What have you done?"

"Nothing."

"Don't you dare!" she exclaimed. "I am the sister you've been dancing the line of breaking rules with for decades. You can't tell me that nothing has happened. I can see it all over your face."

Gil studied her for a moment, then made his decision. He had to tell her. She would never give him a moment's peace until she had the truth. "I met someone," he said in a rush.

Catherine's eyes widened. "Someone or … _someone_?"

"_Someone_," he affirmed.

Catherine grinned. "It's about time! Mother is going to be thrilled! She's been waiting for you to get married since …"

"I was twenty-one, I believe."

Catherine giggled. "Well, a twenty year wait was good for her. So, tell me about this girl. What's her name?"

"Sara," he said, loving the way it felt on his tongue. "Sara Sidle."

"Sara Sidle," Catherine repeated, frowning slightly. "I don't know her. Is her family …?" She trailed off as the truth hit her. "Gil. She's not …"

"She's a forensic scientist," he said.

"Not of the nobility?"

"No."

Her smile completely gone, Catherine sank down onto a stool. "And … what does she expect from you?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means …" She sighed. "What do you want from this girl? Someone to date? Someone to marry?"

Gil shook his head and sat down across from her. "I … don't know."

"Right." Catherine leaned forward. "Gilbert, you are the Prince of Graccia. You don't have the luxury of not knowing what you want from a woman – especially one who isn't of the nobility."

"What do you mean?" he asked again.

"Little girls grow up with this fantasy that one day, they'll marry a prince. They'll live in a shining castle and have a fairytale life." She smiled a sad smile. "You and I know very well that it's not as wonderful as the story books make it sound."

"No," he agreed, thinking that he had yet to read a fairytale that included the handsome prince being whisked away from a reception by a ten-member security team. "It is a nice life, though."

"I'm not saying it's not. But, the reality is, even just going out for dinner with you is a daunting experience. If you bring her here, she'll have to deal with the idea of eating in a castle. She'll have to deal with security getting in … with the servants, which she's likely never encountered … even our table settings can be awkward."

"Okay," Gil said slowly. "So, I won't bring her here."

Catherine shook her head. "Gil. Think about that. What happens every time we leave the palace?"

Understanding dawned. "Paparazzi."

"Exactly. One meal with you, and she's all over every newspaper and tabloid in Vespuccin – a couple dinners, and she's all over every newspaper and tabloid in Europe." She paused. "It was different with Warrick. He was already titled when we met, and his family had been in the nobility for over two centuries. He knew what to expect. But, this girl … Gil, she has no idea what she's getting into."

"I didn't think about it like that …" He trailed off. "I should talk to her first, and make sure she's okay with all of this."

"Okay, but, listen," Catherine said. "If you really like this girl that you've known for ten minutes, go for it. But, remember, if you do, her life is going to be completely turned upside down. Is it really worth it to do that to someone you're only interested in for … less than honorable reasons?"

"Who's not being honorable?"

"Gil, please. You're a grown man. You know what I'm saying. It's not fair to her to put her through this just so you can get your jollies," Catherine said. "And, at the risk of sounding like Mother, you're a bit old for that playboy routine."

He frowned. "Need I remind you of the number of royal affairs our family has known throughout history?"

"With men and women who knew that was all it was," Catherine said. "If a woman goes into an affair with the king knowing that that's all it will ever be, because he's married and won't leave his wife for her, then so be it. But, if he's the unmarried Prince of Graccia … chances are, she's thinking it can easily turn into something more."

"Cath …"

She patted his hand. "If you want to pursue this, Gil, I'm behind you one hundred percent. But, if you start to jerk this girl around, I will send Mother after you faster than you can say _death by hanging_."

Gil smiled. "That's illegal."

Catherine took a sip of her wine and smiled at him over the glass. "Doesn't mean Mother won't try. You know as well as I do it's about time her son got married."

Gil sighed and swirled his wine around in his glass. "Yeah," he said, "so I've heard."

"Just … think about it, okay?"

"I will," he promised. "I really don't want to hurt her, Cath."

"I know," she said. "You're a good guy, Gil."

He smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"So, I noticed that you got some special attention at the ceremony yesterday," Nick teased as he and Sara sat down in the conference room for the start of their shift.

Greg's head snapped up from the file he had been reading. "Special attention?" he repeated. "From whom?"

"A certain prince," Nick said with a grin.

Sara blushed furiously. "I'm pretty sure it's his job to say hello to his … _subjects_."

"That wasn't what it looked like to me," Nick teased. "He tracked you down in that secluded little corner and talked to you for quite some time."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Greg exclaimed, tossing his file onto the table. "Sara, the anti-monarchist, gets a private audience with the man who will be king." He shook his head. "There is no justice in this world."

"Sounds like you have a little crush on him," Sara said, hoping to deflect the attention away from her.

Greg shrugged. "I'm a student of history, Sara. To me, the royal family is living, breathing history. The chance to talk to one of them …" He closed his eyes for a moment and smiled. When he opened them again, he was looking straight at her. "I am so jealous of you right now! What did you talk about? Tell me everything."

"Nothing, really … he asked how I knew Ecklie, and thanked me for our work in Haiti."

"And, he asked you to marry him and be his queen?"

Sara laughed. "No. Not even close."

Greg put on a face of mock sorrow. "And, here I was, all excited to be able to call you _Your_ _Highness_."

Sara laughed again. "Sorry to disappoint. I think you'll have to keep on calling me by my name."

"Still …" Greg said, grinning again. "You got to talk to Prince Gilbert! How many people can say that?"

"More than we know, I'm sure," Sara replied.

"Sara, come on. Just … enjoy this, okay?"

She smiled, thinking back to how blue the Prince's eyes were, and how adorable his smile was when he asked her to call him by his name. "Okay," she agreed.

* * *

><p><em>Royal Residence, Kendell Hall, Kendell<em>

"Your Highness."

"Good morning," Gil said, causing the maid to rise from her curtsey. "Is my sister home?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied. "She's taking lunch on the patio."

"Alone?"

"With the Princess Lindsey."

"Warrick's not here?"

"He's with his father for a family matter today, Sir." She paused. "Shall I show to the patio, Sir?"

He smiled. Before Catherine's marriage, this palace had been his family's summer home. He had been rather disappointed that their father had chosen to give it to her as a wedding gift. "I think I can find the patio."

"Very well, Sir."

"Thank you."

Leaving the maid in the entrance hall, Gil made his way through the winding passages to the patio. As he had been told, Catherine and Lindsey were there, enjoying their lunch while attended by two servants.

"Hello, ladies," he said as he walked onto the patio. The servants bobbed him curtseys, both watching for Lindsey's reaction to her uncle's entrance.

She did not disappoint.

"Uncle Gil!" Lindsey exclaimed, jumping up to greet him.

Grinning, Gil caught his five-year-old niece in his arms and hugged her tightly. "How are you, poppet?"

"Fine," she said. "Mommy and I are eating lunch outside!"

"So I see," he said.

"Won't you join us, Gil?" Catherine asked. "We can set another place for the Prince, can't we?"

"Of course, ma'am." One of the servants left to do her bidding.

"So," Catherine said, "what brings you all the way out here?"

Gil smiled. "It's less than an hour's drive. I wouldn't call it _all the way out here_."

"You know what I mean," Catherine said, watching as Gil's place was set. "I just saw you two days ago. Did you miss me that much, or …" She trailed off, her eyes growing round. She looked at her daughter, who had finished her lunch. "Lindsey, please go practice your painting."

"But, I want to see Uncle Gil!"

Catherine's eyes widened. "Lindsey," she said, her voice low and severe.

Ducking her head, Lindsey got up from the table. Catherine turned to the servant behind her.

"Take her to Karen," she said, referring to her daughter's nanny. "Ask her to help her change into her painting clothes, and to set her to work."

"Yes, ma'am." The servant went back inside with Lindsey trailing behind her.

"You sounded like Mother," Gil said, chuckling.

"I can't believe she talked back to me like that! Can you even imagine what Mother would have done?"

"I doubt I want to imagine it," Gil replied. "She's a willful little girl, Catherine. You have to get used to that."

She shook her head. "I don't even want to think about what she'll be like in ten years."

"Well, there is always the boarding school option."

She smiled slightly. "We'll keep it open." She folded her hands in front of her empty plate. "Tell me, Gil. What's happened?"

"I've thought about what you said," he said. "All of it. And … I really do want to give this a try with Sara."

Catherine exhaled. "A _serious_ try? You're not just in this for fun?"

"A serious try," Gil affirmed. "I barely know this woman, Cath. I don't know if she's right for me, or right to be our country's queen. But … if I don't pursue this, how will I ever know? I could spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "This is what happens when you spend too much time reading Shakespeare," she said. "You get all poetic on me."

He smiled. "I'm here looking for help, and you're mocking me."

"What do you want me to do to help you?" Catherine asked.

"Tell me how to go about doing this."

She laughed. "You've never asked a woman on a date?"

"Not really," he said.

"I find that hard to believe."

He shook his head. "I've gone on dates with women who were selected for me. I always knew in advance when I asked that they'd agree to go. I don't know how to … woo her. How to ask her properly." A look of panic crept into his eyes. "I don't even know _what_ to ask her. Please, Cath, you've got to help me."

She smiled. "Well, Gil, you probably should start by making her feel like a princess."

He smiled. "That, I think I can do."

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Where's Sara?"

"I'm right here," Sara said, popping out of the lab. "What's …" Her eyes opened wide at the sight of the huge bouquet of flowers Jim was carrying toward her. "Jim … you shouldn't have."

"I didn't," he said. "Judy attacked me as I walked past the desk and said these had just been delivered for you. I am merely your delivery boy … and, as you know, it is customary to tip a delivery boy."

"Don't poke a sleeping bear," Sara said as she took the flowers from him.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the tip."

Sara carried the flowers into the empty layout room, where she set them on the table. She plucked the card from its holder, and was stunned to see the seal on the envelope.

"His Royal Highness, the Prince of Graccia," she whispered. "No … it can't be …"

She opened the envelope with shaking fingers and pulled out the card inside. She was surprised to see that it was handwritten.

_Dear Sara,_

_I'd like to thank you for speaking with me at the ceremony last week. It was wonderful to meet you. _

_I'd like very much to get to know you better. If you would consent, I'd like to have dinner with you. My private mobile number is on the back of this note. If you're willing to come to dinner with me, send me a text message so that I will have your number. I will take care of everything._

_I hope to hear from you soon. However, if you would rather not see me again, please accept these flowers as my thanks for a lovely reception. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed your company._

_With affection,_

_Gilbert_

Sara stared from the note to the flowers and back several times. She took a deep breath, trying to still her spinning head. Finally giving up, she sank down onto the nearest stool.

"What am I going to do?"

"Hey, who sent you the flowers?" Nick asked, appearing in the doorway.

Sara looked up at him. One look at her pale face propelled him into the room.

"What's wrong, Sar?"

Wordlessly, she handed him the note.

He read it silently, then handed it back.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

Sara shook her head. "What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should …" Nick paused. "Pretend he's someone else."

"What?"

"This is a man you met at a work function He's interested in you," Nick said. "That's all. He's asked for your number. Are you interested? Do you give it to him?"

"Normally, I would, but …"

Nick grinned. "You have your answer."

She smiled slightly, but still looked pale. "Nicky … you won't tell anyone else, right?"

"Not until you tell me to."

"Thanks."

* * *

><p>Gil was on his way to meet Catherine for a concert when his mobile beeped. Assuming she was texting to let him know she was on her way, he pulled the phone from his jacket pocket.<p>

The number that came up did not have a name associated with it in his phone book. Frowning, he clicked to open the message.

_Thank you for the flowers. I enjoyed speaking with you, too._

He nearly dropped his phone.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

><p><em>National Opera House, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"She texted me," Gil said in wonder. "She gave me her number."

"So you've told me about twenty times," Catherine said, her patience waning. "For the love of God, Gil, call her."

"I will." He grinned. "I can't believe –"

Catherine's patience ended. "Do it now," she interrupted.

He looked horrified. "We're in the middle of a show."

"Technically, we're in the middle of the intermission of the show," Catherine said. "It's perfectly acceptable to make calls at this point."

"And, if someone sees me? If word gets to the press?" He shook his head. "I will not be under a headline proclaiming that Prince Gilbert does not support the arts, but that he only goes to the opera to make phone calls."

Catherine chuckled. "Fine. If you don't do it now, you'll have to wait until tomorrow, though. It will be late by the time the show is over."

"Waiting until tomorrow is better that than public humiliation."

"Fine. Just … stop telling me about it."

He looked hurt. "I thought you were here to support me."

"No, I'm here to be your date for the opera."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course. Family image is everything, isn't it?"

"You know it's not just about that."

He smiled. "Yes. I know. But … I also know that that's part of it."

Catherine smiled and shook her head. "I hope this Sara knows what she's getting into with you."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

Sara was cleaning up her breakfast dishes and humming to herself when her mobile phone rang. Assuming it was Jim calling to see if she could come in early – who else would call her before eight AM? –, she answered it without looking at the caller ID.

"This is Sara," she said.

"Good morning, Sara," said a voice that was distinctly _not_ Jim's. "This is Gilbert."

Sara gasped and nearly dropped the phone. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Um, hi."

"Hi," he said, exhaling slowly. "I, uh, received your text message. You got the flowers, then?"

"Yes," Sara said, smiling as she looked across at the vase on her kitchen table. "They are beautiful. Thank you again for sending them. You really didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he said. He cleared his throat and paused.

In the seconds it took before he spoke again, Sara realized that he was nervous. Nervous! The Prince was just as nervous to speak with her as she was to speak with him! The very idea made her want to giggle. She worked hard to contain herself, and settled for grinning from ear to ear.

"I also want to take you to dinner," he said. He paused again. "If you'd like to join me, of course."

"I'd like to very much," Sara said.

"Excellent," he said, the relief evident in his voice. "Are you available tomorrow evening?" He rushed on, "I know it's short notice. If you already have plans, I understand."

"It's fine," she said. "I'm off tomorrow, actually, so it's perfect."

"Excellent," he said again. "Shall we say, seven?"

"Sure," Sara agreed.

"May I have your address? I'll come to pick you up."

"Oh, sure," Sara said, suddenly a bit flustered. "It's 436 Maple Ave, apartment 3C."

"Thank you," Gil said. "I'm sure you're busy, so I don't want to keep you. I'll see you tomorrow evening."

"Yes," Sara agreed. "Seven o'clock."

"Until then, Sara." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"See you then," she replied.

She ended the call and stared at the phone in her hand in disbelief. She had just talked to Prince Gilbert. He had called her. They were going out for dinner together – the very next day.

"O-oh," she whispered. "What on earth does a girl wear to dinner with a prince?"

* * *

><p><em>Private Residence, Royal Palace, Wendelsburg<em>

"What time are you meeting her?"

"Seven," Gil replied, deftly tying his favorite tie around his neck.

Catherine smiled. "And, where are you taking her?"

"I thought we could go to Antonio's. It's small, quiet, off the beaten path …"

"Less chance of paparazzi catching you …" Catherine nodded. "Smart."

Gil exhaled. "Cath … maybe I shouldn't do this."

"What on earth do you mean? You've talked about nothing but Sara since you met her! You can't possibly _not_ want to go to dinner with her."

"I … I don't know if I should put her though this."

"Through _what_? Dinner with a prince? Haven't I already told you that it's every girl's dream?"

"Ducking the paparazzi … eating with security … never having any privacy …"

Catherine grinned. "As your married sister, let me be the one to tell you that the security guys are very willing to give you privacy. Just tell them to wait outside." She winked. "Works every time."

"I wasn't … that's not what I … I barely know her!"

Catherine laughed. "Calm down, I'm teasing. Well, sort of. The security guys really will wait outside if you ask." She smiled. "And, Gil, please ask them to wait while you walk her to her door tonight. There is nothing that will ruin a good evening like having a security guard watch the awkward first date ending."

"Okay," he said, a look of desperation crossing his face. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Catherine said, "_calm down_. You, sir, are a nervous wreck!"

"I am," he acknowledged.

"Well, if it's of any consolation, I'm sure she is, too."

"Is it wrong that I hope so?"

Catherine smiled. "No. It's human that you hope so."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

Sara paced around her apartment, straightening already straight cushions and brushing imaginary lint from her dress. Not wanting to keep the Prince waiting, she had been ready to leave by six o'clock, giving her over an hour to kill before his arrival. As she had put on her jewelry, she convinced herself that the extra time was a good thing; it would help her calm down.

In the end, it was only helping her to find more things to worry about. The most recent was her clothes. She paced into her bedroom and stopped in front of the mirror.

"You look good," she told her reflection. "He'll like the dress."

Her calm tone and upbeat words did nothing to diminish the panic in her eyes. For the first time in years, she wished she had a close girlfriend who could advise her on her clothes. She had chosen the simple, elegant black dress because she received compliments on the rare occasions that she wore it – and, because the fashion magazines she had picked up that morning had proclaimed a little black dress to be perfect for any occasion.

"Perfect even for a date with a prince," she muttered to herself, running her hands over her hips. "So I hope."

A knock on her door ended her conversation with herself. Jumping slightly, she grabbed her purse and went to greet her prince.

* * *

><p>Gil held his breath as he waited for Sara to open her door. Needing some sort of distraction from his incredible nerves, he glanced around. Her building was small and seemed quiet. There were no neighbors hanging around, for which he was grateful. He did not want to see anyone other than Sara.<p>

After what felt like years, she opened the door. She gave him a bright smile; he immediately realized it was the first time that he had seen her smile. It was wide and cheerful and revealed an adorable gap between her teeth. Gil felt himself falling for her even harder.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Hi," he replied. He let his eyes slide up and down her body. "You look stunning."

Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. "So do you."

He smiled. "Shall we?"

She nodded, and stepped all the way outside, locking the door behind her. When she turned, she saw that Gil was offering her his arm. Flushing again, she took it.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"A little restaurant called Antonio's," he said. "Have you been there before?"

"I don't think so," she said, frowning slightly as she tried to recall it.

"It's an Italian restaurant." He looked down at her. "You do like Italian food, don't you?"

"Yes," she said. She paused. "I suppose I should tell you now that I'm a vegetarian."

"Oh," he said, a bit surprised. "That's fine."

"It doesn't bother you?"

He shook his head. "Not at all."

Sara seemed to relax a bit. "Good."

They arrived at the very expensive, impeccably cleaned, jet black car parked in front of her building. A man in a suit was leaning against it. When he saw them approaching, he jumped to attention and opened the back door.

"After you," Gil said, allowing Sara to enter the car first.

Stunned by this extravagance, she slid into the car and across to the other side of the bench seat. Gil climbed in behind her.

"This is Harold, my head of security," he said, indicating the man in the front passenger seat.

"Hello, miss," Harold said, turning around when introduced.

"Hello," Sara said a bit faintly.

"And, this is Clark, my driver."

"Hello," said Clark as he climbed into the car after seeing them both in.

"Hi," Sara said.

"And, this," Gil said, pressing a button that brought up a glass barrier, "is how we leave them out of our conversations."

Sara smiled. "I had no idea you traveled with an entourage."

Gil nodded. "There are actually three more security guards who will be with us tonight. They're in another car that will follow us to the restaurant."

Sara nodded, but felt completely overwhelmed. Some of her swirling thoughts must have shown on her face.

"I'm sorry that it has to be this way," Gil said. "To me … I'm used to it. I grew up with security personnel following my every move. But for you … it must seem odd."

"No," Sara said quickly, sorry that she was making him so uncomfortable. "I guess that, in a way, I am used to it. When I'm working crime scenes, or when we're on assignment in other countries, there's always an army of police officers making sure I'm safe. It's the same idea."

He smiled. "Exactly."

"So," Sara said, glancing around the car, "is there anything else I should know before we get to the restaurant?"

Gil smiled. "Just that I'm happy that you're here with me."

Sara smiled, blushing yet again. "I'm happy to be here."

* * *

><p>The restaurant, as Gil had promised, was small. It was not, however, quaint. It was richly appointed, and made Sara wish that she had a more expensive black dress that she could have worn.<p>

As soon as they sat down, Gil ordered them a bottle of champagne. Sara had never heard of the winery he requested, but, when she found the champagne on the menu, she was alarmed to see how much it cost. As her eyes trailed down the prices of the entrees, she felt a moment of panic. How would she ever find something remotely affordable to order? While it was clear that he did not expect her to pay her own way, she did not want to spend so much of Gil's money on dinner.

"So," Gil said as the waiter opened their champagne, "tell me about your work. What did you do in Haiti?"

Sara smiled. "I think you already know the answer to that. You gave a lovely speech about it last week."

He smiled. "I know what I was told. I want to hear how it _really_ was – for you."

"Well," she said, "generally speaking, my job is to analyze evidence related to crimes both here and abroad. Sometimes, that means staying home, but sometimes it means traveling quite a bit. I've spent extended periods of time abroad – though, the stint in Haiti was the longest to date. We were there for six months."

The waiter left them with their glasses filled and the rest of the bottle chilling in a bucket next to Gil. The Prince smiled at her and raised his glass.

"To you," he said. "Sara, I've never done this before – asked a woman that I met without a special introduction to dinner. Thank you for agreeing to spend tonight with me, and for being the first woman to do so without instruction."

She smiled and chinked her glass against his. "You know, this is a first for me, too," she said. "I've never had dinner with a prince before."

He smiled as they each took a sip of their champagne. "I'm glad I could be your first."

Sara felt her cheeks grow warm yet again. She wondered if it was possible for her to spend ten minutes with this man without blushing.

"So, you were in Haiti?" he prompted.

"I … Haiti," she said, feeling a bit flustered. She recovered quickly. "Yes. Initially, we were asked to go to investigate a string of murders in Port-au-Prince. It was one of those things that started off small and sort of exploded. I think they honestly believed that the first two deaths were related to the earthquake and aftermath. But, by the time they got to the fourth, a pattern was becoming clear. But, with all the country's efforts devoted to the recovery, we were asked to run the investigation."

"Fascinating," Gil said, staring at her as though he had never seen anyone like her before. "Did you solve the murders?"

"We did," she said. "Unfortunately, the case is still in the courts, so I really can't tell you any more about it …"

"I understand," he said. "It must be very rewarding to know that you help people so much."

"It is," she said. "Haiti was different, too. It wasn't just about finding closure for families or giving a voice to the victims. We actually got to help with the rebuilding efforts – that was amazing."

"It must have been," Gil agreed, smiling at the way her eyes lit up. "I wish I could be of some help to them there."

"But, you are," she said. "Vespuccin sends so much to countries like Haiti. Resources, manpower, even financial assistance … I know they appreciate it."

"But, to actually _be_ there, to be a part of it …" He shook his head, admiration all over his face. "I envy you, Sara."

"Well, next time there's a disaster, you'll have to go help."

"I'd prefer that there not be any more disasters."

She smiled. "Yes. I agree with you there." She paused and took a sip of her champagne. "What about you? What do you do when you're not handing out awards?"

He smiled. "Very little."

"Oh, I don't believe that."

"Sara," he said very seriously, "there are some things you need to understand about me."

"Okay …"

"May I take your order?"

They both looked up as the waiter reappeared beside their table. Gil gestured to Sara, and the waiter turned his eyes to her.

"I'll have the eggplant ravioli, please," she said.

"Very good, miss. Your Highness?"

Sara barely heard what he ordered, expect to know that it sounded expensive. Hearing his title reminded her of the fact that she was not just on a date – she was out with a prince. She looked around the restaurant, taking in the other diners. Their expensive clothes and stunning jewels glittered, and, suddenly made her feel out of place. _What I am I doing here? I'm not like them … I don't even believe in the same things they do! What was I thinking, agreeing to this?_

"Sara? Are you all right?"

She looked back at Gil, who was looking at her with such concern and care that her heart melted. She may not belong among the super-rich, but he did, and he was the reason she was here. If she wanted to get to know him better, she had to accept him for who he was.

She hoped she could do it.

"Sara?" he asked again.

She smiled. "I'm fine."

"Good." He took another sip of his champagne.

"What were you going to tell me?" she asked. "Something that I need to understand?"

Conflict raged in his eyes for a moment, then seemed to settle as he made a decision. "Just … that I wish I could be more like you."

Sara gave him a bemused smile. "Save that until you know me better."

He held her eyes for a long moment. "You'd like for me to get to know you better?" he asked quietly.

Sara found herself blushing yet again. "Yeah," she nearly whispered.

A bright smile broke out across his face. "I'd like that, too."

* * *

><p>Sara was shocked by how late it was when they left the restaurant. When she commented on the hour, Gil looked surprised.<p>

"Did you need to get home earlier?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I've just never spent that long having dinner before."

Gil smiled. "I've endured a _lot_ of lengthy dinners in my life – but, this one was certainly the most enjoyable."

Sara smiled back at him. "I've enjoyed myself, too."

They reached the car. As he had at Sara's apartment, Clark held the door open for them. Gil placed his hand on the small of Sara's back to guide her into the car. She turned to smile at him.

A flash of light attracted Gil's attention. Sara climbed into the car; Gil turned to Harold.

"Was that …?"

Harold was already looking around. "I'll have the men stay back to look around, Sir. Probably just a car driving past, but we can't be too careful."

Gil nodded and followed Sara into the car. She looked at him in confusion.

"What were you talking to Harold about?"

He smiled. "Nothing."

She returned the smile, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was an inexplicable uneasiness in his eyes.

* * *

><p>When they arrived at Sara's building, Gil lowered the glass and leaned forward to tap Harold on the shoulder.<p>

"I've got this, okay?"

Harold nodded. "Yes, Sir." He paused. "Sir … our men are quite sure that the light we saw was _not_ a passing car."

Gil nodded. "Thank you."

Sara looked at him, but he merely smiled and helped her out of the car. They climbed to her door together, and stopped, turning to look at one another.

"Thank you for giving me such a wonderful evening," Sara said as she unlocked her door.

"It has been my pleasure," he replied. "If you'd like … we could … spend more time together?"

Sara gave him a beaming smile. "I'd like that very much."

"Wait," Gil said. "Before you agree … there _is_ something that I need to tell you. That I probably should have told you when I started to at dinner."

"Okay," Sara said slowly.

"By doing this … seeing me … you're agreeing to become a kind of public figure. You're agreeing to let yourself be photographed … to let the media and the public speculate about who you are … to comment on and criticize you at every turn." He looked pained. "I chose Antonio's for our dinner tonight because my family has never been photographed there. But, as we were leaving, I think that a paparazzo snapped our picture. If so, it will likely be in the papers tomorrow." He paused. "It can be very difficult to deal with all of this. If you'd rather not, please, tell me now."

Sara stared at him in shock. As the seconds dragged on, his face fell.

"I understand if you –"

"I want to do it," she interrupted.

It was Gil's turn to stare at her in shock.

"I know it's probably stupid to put myself out there like this, but … I really had a great time tonight. This has been the best first date I've ever had, and … if going on a second date means that someone will take pictures of me, so be it."

Gil exhaled, thinking that she had no idea what she was saying. "Sara, it's not just pictures."

"But … I'm willing to try." She looked down, then up again. "At least, I'm willing to try if you are."

He smiled. "Of course." He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I'll call you."

Gil opened her door for her, and waited until she was safely inside. Then, giving her one last smile, he made his way back to the car.

He hoped that Harold and the others were wrong. He was not ready to take his relationship with Sara into the press – not yet. Not when it was so new.

Not when he was so close to falling in love.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I want to say a big THANK YOU especially to those who are taking a chance on an A/U fic for me with this one! It means so much to me that you're willing to give it a try!

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing.

* * *

><p><em>Private Residence, Royal Palace, Wendelsburg<em>

Falling asleep after such an evening had been difficult. Gil couldn't get Sara or their dinner out of his head. After talking himself out of calling her at least five times, he had finally gone to bed, promising himself that he would sleep as long as possible the next day.

Someone, apparently, had other plans for him. His ringing phone woke him several hours before he intended to get out of bed.

"Hello?" he said sleepily.

"Gilbert, wake up," Catherine said firmly.

"Why? You don't need to hear about it yet."

"I don't need to hear about it at all. I already know what happened."

"How could you?"

"Gil, you were photographed. You and Sara are in the paper."

His sleepiness gone, Gil sat up straight. "What?"

"You didn't know?"

"I did see a flash …"

"It was a camera," Catherine said. "Did you tell Mother and Father you were going out with Sara last night?"

His mouth dropped open. "No," he managed to say.

"Okay," Catherine said. "I'm on my way. I go with you to talk to them. We'll fix this."

"Thanks, Cath."

"See you soon."

As he hung up the phone, Gil struggled to pull his scattered thoughts together. Catherine's confident _we'll fix this _rang in his head over and over.

He was more than a little concerned that his family's idea of "fixing this" would not be the same as his.

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Good morning," Sara said sleepily to Judy as she passed the front desk on her way into work.

"Sara!" Judy exclaimed, dropping her paper. "Good morning."

Sara frowned slightly, but was too tired to care why Judy was acting so oddly. Sleep had not come easy after Prince Gilbert had left – she had been busy replaying every moment of their evening in her head over and over again. Now, after far too little sleep, the only thing she could think about was a cup of coffee. Her dearest wish for the morning was that Greg had been the one to make the coffee. Even if he was hoarding his Hawaiian Blue stash, he always made a far stronger brew than anyone other than Sara.

"Sara!"

"Greg," she said gratefully. "Please, tell me you made the coffee today."

"Yeah, I did, but I really want to talk to you about –"

"Coffee first," she interrupted. "I mean it."

Looking pained, Greg started walking down the hall with her to the break room.

"SIDLE! MY OFFICE! NOW!"

Sara jumped and looked at Greg in bewilderment.

"I was off yesterday," she said blankly. "What could I possibly have done?"

"That's what I was trying to –"

"NOW!"

Exchanging a frightened look with Greg, Sara changed her direction to Ecklie's office. He was waiting for her in the doorway; as soon as she was in his office, he slammed the door behind them.

"What," he began, trying and failing to conceal his rage, "is _this_?"

He tossed a newspaper down on the desk in front of her. Sara looked down, her eyes widening as she recognized the picture of her with Prince Gilbert. They were leaving Antonio's restaurant. Gilbert's hand was on her back, helping her into the car; she was smiling at him. She looked down at the caption: PRINCE GILBERT SPENDS AN EVENING WITH A MYSTERY WOMAN.

_I guess he was right. We didn't have to wait long to find out if a paparazzo got our picture._

Sara's eyes shot back up to Ecklie, who was staring at her, clearly waiting for an answer.

"It's … a picture of me with … Prince Gilbert," she managed to choke out.

"Yes, I can see that," Ecklie said. "Why, may I ask, was it taken? The lab has already analyzed it; I've been assured it's a real photograph."

"It's real," Sara said, her chin coming up defiantly. "And, to be honest, I'm rather insulted that you would waste the lab's time with something like this. You could have just asked."

"You should be wishing it was faked!" Ecklie yelled. "A faked photograph we can deal with, Sidle! A few phone calls, and the paper would be printing an apology to you! But, _this_ – this is a very serious problem!"

"A … problem?" Sara asked, bewildered. "Why?"

"Do you have any idea what this is doing to the lab?"

"The lab? Ecklie, come on. It doesn't even identify me! I'm a 'mystery woman.'"

"For now," Ecklie spat. "They have your face, Sara, and you work in law enforcement. We're government employees. Our faces, our fingerprints, every possible identifying factor is public record. How long will it take for them to figure out who you are? They can print every detail about you if they dig far enough – and, your job will certainly be the first thing released."

"Every detail …" Fear trickled through her. She had to talk to Prince Gilbert. _Immediately_. "I … need to go make a phone call."

"Tell me that's a joke," Ecklie snarled. "You are not leaving this office!"

"Until what?" Sara yelled, completely losing her composure. "Until you have a good explanation? Here it is: I went out for dinner with Prince Gilbert last night. Some paparazzo took our picture, even though the Prince went out of his way to find a secluded restaurant so that wouldn't happen." She shook her head, some of the fight going out of her. "Some things are just … out of our control."

"No, Sara, this was very much _in_ your control. You chose to go out with Prince Gilbert. You chose to put yourself – and the lab – on the line like this."

"She's allowed to have a social life, Ecklie," Brass said as he came into the office. "We work for the government, not the Mafia."

"She's not allowed to put the reputation of the lab on the line!"

"_I didn't_!" Sara yelled. "All I did was to go out for dinner! What are you so worried about, Ecklie? I get that they'll publish that I work here, but, honestly, what's the big deal? I have an excellent solve rate. I come in and do my job to the best of my ability every single day, which, to be honest, makes you look good. So, _back off_."

Noting the dangerous glitter in Sara's eyes, Brass grabbed her arm.

"I'm her supervisor," he said to Ecklie. "I'll take care of this."

Ecklie nodded, looking disgusted. Considering it a victory that he was allowed to take her out of the office before Ecklie realized that she was being insubordinate, Jim rushed her into the hall.

"Jim –"

"Not now, Sara."

"But –"

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "_Not_. _Now_."

* * *

><p><em>Private Residence, Royal Palace, Wendelsburg<em>

Gil met Catherine at the kitchen door. She looked worried as she walked into the house.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"In the study."

She shook her head. "Have you talked to them?"

"Not yet." He ran his hands over his face. "What's going to happen, Cath?"

"Nothing … unless you plan to see Sara again."

"I do," he nearly whispered.

She nodded grimly. "I figured as much. The looks on your faces in the picture show how much you enjoyed last night."

"She's wonderful, Cath," he said quietly, his eyes lighting up.

"I'm sure she is," Catherine said. She shook her head. "You know that Mother and Father are going to have a problem with this."

Gil exhaled. "You were the one who pushed me to do this, Catherine! And, now, you're in here telling me that Mother and Father will have a problem with it as though you thought it was a bad idea from the first!"

"You wanted to go out with this girl," Catherine said. "Yes, I thought that was a good idea, because it was something you were so excited about. I just … didn't expect you to fall for her like this."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. But, now that this is what's happening … we have to find a way to make it work."

Gil's chin came up. "I went out with a woman whose company I find to be very enjoyable. I plan to go out with her again – to get to know her better. I'm over forty years old, Catherine. I think I can make that decision on my own."

Catherine's eyes softened. "I agree with you, Gil. Unfortunately, this is a decision that isn't just about you. It never has been."

"Well … maybe it needs to be."

A look of slight fear crossed her face. "What are you thinking, Gil? That you'd abdicate for her?"

"Abdicate what?" he asked. "I'm not a king. It isn't my throne."

"But … it will be."

"Why would I have to abdicate for her? This isn't like it was for the Duke of Windsor in the 30s. She's not Wallis Simpson. And, even if she was … Plenty of royals – crown princes among them – are marrying commoners now. Look at Felipe of Spain! His wife was a divorcee when they met."

"And, she's had such an easy go of it," Catherine said.

"True," Gil said quietly. "But, Cath … we have to try."

"She means that much?"

He nodded. "She means that much."

"Okay," Catherine said, exhaling. "We've got to do this. We'll bring up the other royals as examples if we need to appease them. Otherwise … Gil, are you _absolutely sure_ this is something you want to do?"

"Yes," he replied firmly, meeting her eyes.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go talk to Their Majesties."

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

Without looking at her again, or at any of the staring eyes that followed them, Jim led Sara to his office. He closed the door behind them and finally made eye contact with her again.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"What is going on around here?" she asked rather than answering his question. "Why should Ecklie get so upset about this?"

"First …" Jim shook his head. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you were going out for dinner with the _Prince_ of all people."

Sara blushed. "Honestly, Jim, I didn't know how to tell you guys about it."

"Well, I think that's been handled."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"And, listen, about Ecklie …" He exhaled. "Sara, he's nervous about what people will say."

"Yeah, I got that. But, it's _my_ reputation on the line, not his."

Jim smiled. "Not the way he sees it."

"What do you mean?"

"Last week, Ecklie was given the Prince of Graccia Award, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Let me rephrase: Last week, Ecklie _earned_ the Prince of Graccia Award."

"Okay …"

"In his mind, if people see you dating the Prince … well, they'll assume that he got the award because you asked the Prince to give it to him. Or, because the Prince decided to give it to him just to make you happy. Either way, it looks like a favoritism sort of thing, rather than something that he earned all on his own."

Sara rolled her eyes. "He cannot possibly think that. It's too pathetic, even for him."

Brass looked at her, and she smiled.

"Okay, maybe he can."

"Yeah," Jim said with a smile. "He can."

"Well, he's going to have to get over it," Sara said. "There's nothing I can do about it now. The picture is out there, and …" She blushed. "If Prince Gilbert called me today and asked me to go out with him again, I would."

Brass grinned at her. "Good for you, Sara."

She smiled again, but another trickle of fear raced up her spine. She could only hope that he would want to go out with her again after he heard what she had to tell him.

* * *

><p><em>Private Residences, Royal Palace, Wendelsburg<em>

"Well, how nice that you've finally decided to join us," Queen Elizabeth said as Gil and Catherine entered the study. She looked from Gil to Catherine and back. "And, I see you've brought reinforcements."

Catherine just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Good morning to you, too, Mother."

"Let's get to it," King John said as his children sat down. He put the newspaper on the table between the four of them. "Who is this girl, Gil?"

"Her name is Sara Sidle," he said. "I met her at the Prince of Graccia Award ceremony last week."

"And, why was she with you?"

"I took her out for dinner."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked.

Catherine could not stop herself from rolling her eyes this time. "Obviously, he found her to be attractive, Mother."

"Catherine," she said, her tone dangerous.

"She's a very pretty young woman," John acknowledged. "However, Gilbert, this is incredibly unlike you. I've never known you to go to dinner with …"

"Someone that you didn't choose?" Catherine supplied.

"That's enough, Catherine," Elizabeth said.

"She's right, Mother," Gil said. "Every woman I've ever dated has been a daughter of a duke or a king or a prince or …" He shrugged. "I think I'm old enough to decide whom I'd like to see. And, Sara is someone I'd like to see."

Elizabeth looked stunned. He had never spoken to her that way before. John, too, looked shocked. Yet, admiration for his son – the man who would be king – mingled with the shock on his face.

"Gil, you know that this isn't just about you," he said. "And, it's not just about our family. It's about the entire country. The woman you marry will become queen one day. That is something you need to remember – always."

"I do remember it," he said. "I do, Father."

"And, is that something that this woman understands?" Elizabeth asked.

Gil smiled slightly. "I don't think she needs to understand that quite yet."

"If you're dating her, she needs to understand it," Elizabeth said stiffly.

"It does seem a bit premature," Catherine said, daring to speak up again. "They've only been on one date. That hardly qualifies as an engagement."

Elizabeth turned to her with narrowed eyes. "These things can happen quickly enough, Catherine."

Sensing the storm brewing between his wife and daughter, John cleared his throat. "Let's stay focused. Gil, do you intend to see this Sara again?"

"Yes," Gil replied without hesitation.

"Have you spoken with her about her loss of privacy if she continues to see you?"

"Yes," he said again.

John nodded. "The next time you are with her, go somewhere more open than Antonio's. Let the paparazzi photograph you, and publish the photos. Then, we will release a statement giving her name and that you feel lucky to have met her, or some other nonsense along those lines. It will keep the press happy, and give the country something new to discuss."

"To speculate about and criticize, you mean," Catherine said. "Father, the press will tear into Sara's past and hang her out to dry if you do that!"

"Make sure she understands that," John said to Gil. "As long as she doesn't have anything she's ashamed to let the country know, we'll follow through with this plan."

"And, if she does?" Gil asked.

John and Elizabeth remained silent, but exchanged a glance that said more than their words ever could. Gil felt his heart sink.

"Are we through here?" Catherine asked. The looks on her parents' faces were enough to tell her that they needed to end the conversation before it turned.

"Yes," John said.

She nodded to Gil, and they both stood up. With slight bows to their parents, they left the study.

"Well, that went better than I expected," Catherine said as soon as they were in the hall again.

"Yes, it did," Gil agreed. "Thank you, Cath, for your help."

"You mean for getting Mother angry?" she asked with a grin.

Gil shook his head. "You enjoy poking at her, don't you?"

"A little more than I should," Catherine acknowledged. "So, when do I get to meet Sara? I just did quite a bit to make sure she wasn't banished from the family before we even got a chance to meet her – I think I deserve some kind of reward."

Gil smiled faintly. "Let me make sure she's still up for this, first."

Catherine frowned at the look on his face. "Gil … tell me what you're thinking."

He started walking, and Catherine followed him. He walked through the halls to the back door, and out into the garden. It wasn't until they were into the labyrinth of hedges that he turned to look at Catherine again.

"I don't know if I should put her through this," he said.

"How can you say that? After all that?"

"Exactly! You saw how Mother and Father were about it … And, what you said was true, too. The country is going to tear her apart as soon as they have her name. Why should anyone endure that – especially someone who wasn't born into it like we were." He shook his head. "I don't know, Cath. I just don't know if this is a good idea."

"Gil, you listen to me," she said. "If you didn't think this was a good idea, why would you have wasted your time in there? You would have just told Mother and Father that it was some girl who wanted a picture. At most, you would have said her name and that you took her to dinner, but that you never intend to see her again." She smiled. "But, that is clearly not the case. You want to see her again, and you know it."

"Yes, but –"

"No," Catherine interrupted. "No more. Call her right now, and tell her what Father said. Explain the risks. Unless she ends it now, make plans to go out with her again." She grinned. "I will not let you end this because you're being a coward, Gil. Not this time."

He exhaled. "Okay."

Catherine watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and selected Sara from his contacts. It only rang twice before she answered.

"Hello?"

"Sara?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Hi," he said. "It's Gilbert."

"Hi," she said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said. "And, you?"

"Fine."

He took a breath. "Have you … seen the paper?"

"Oh, yeah."

"And …?"

She exhaled. "My boss wasn't thrilled."

"I'd … like to talk to you about it," he said. "Can we meet? Today?"

"I have to work until five, but I'm free after that."

"My place," Catherine hissed. "Take her to my place!"

"Okay," Gil said. "I'll pick you up at … six?"

"I can be ready then," Sara agreed.

"Good. We can go to my sister's place, and have dinner there." He smiled. "I have a feeling her very generous offer of her home is a ploy to meet you, but I _know_ that she won't be there tonight."

Catherine made a pouty face, but gave a reluctant nod.

"Okay," Sara agreed.

"I'll see you at six, then," Gil confirmed.

Sara smiled in spite of herself. "It's a date."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This one is a bit shorter than the others in this story, but I really like where it ends. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

><p><em>Sara's Apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

When Gil's car pulled up to Sara's apartment complex, she was standing in the parking lot waiting for him. He stepped out of the car, his raised eyebrows silently questioning her presence.

"I was a little anxious," she said, answering his unasked question.

He smiled. "I can understand that." He indicated the car. "Shall we?"

She nodded. "Hi, Clark," she said as she crossed to the car.

"Hello, Miss Sidle," he said.

Gil stood back to allow her to enter the car before him; Clark closed the door behind them.

"Hi, Harold," Sara said as she situated herself in her seat.

"Hello," he replied. He turned farther so he could see Gil. "Straight to Kendell Hall, Sir?"

"Yes."

He nodded, and pressed a button to speak with the guards in the second car that would follow them. Sara looked at Gil as he raised the barrier between them and the men in the front seat.

"Do you always travel with a second car of guards?"

"Yes."

She nodded.

"Sara," he said slowly, "I truly am sorry."

"For what?"

"For any trouble that I've caused you with your family … your friends … at work …"

"Can't we wait on this?" she said. She smiled shyly. "Can't we just … have a moment together?"

Gil smiled at her and reached for her hand. She returned the smile and let her fingers curl around his.

"Yes," he said. "We can have as many moments as you'd like."

* * *

><p><em>Royal Residence, Kendell Hall, Kendell<em>

"This is your sister's house?" Sara asked in awe as they climbed out of the car.

"Yes," Gil affirmed. "It used to be our family's summer home, but, Father gave it to Catherine as a wedding gift."

"Nice gift," Sara said.

"For her," Gil replied.

Sara looked at him questioningly as he led her up the front walk. He smiled.

"I miss spending the summer here."

Sara smiled. "You poor baby."

Though she had been teasing, Gil smiled sadly. He ushered her into the house ahead of him.

"It's nice evening," he said. "Would you like to have dinner on the patio?"

"Okay," she said, willing to follow his recommendations about the house he obviously dearly missed.

He turned to speak to a maid about their dinner, and Sara took a moment to look around the entrance hall. She had never seen such rich furnishings outside a museum; she could hardly believe that anyone could actually live among them.

"Ready?" Gil asked.

Sara turned to face him again. "Your sister has a daughter, doesn't she?" she asked, wondering how any child could grow up in such museum-like surroundings.

He nodded. "Lindsey. She's not here now, though. They're visiting her grandparents."

"Your parents?" Sara asked.

"Her father's family," he corrected. "Catherine and I bought thought it best to stay away from our parents for a little while."

Sara was on the verge of asking what the family conflict was when it hit her. _She_ was the family conflict. Her face burned with embarrassment.

"Hey," Gil said, touching her chin to bring her eyes back to his, "what's wrong?"

"We need to talk," she said firmly.

Gil nodded. "Come on. Let's go out to the patio."

Nodding, Sara followed him through the house and outside. She was so distracted that she did not even notice the rest of the décor. Greg would be annoyed with her lack of observation later, but, with all the thoughts and emotions swirling through her mind, she could not be a good investigator.

They sat down and fell silent. Gil finally summoned his courage, and spoke.

"I know I said it before, but, I _am_ sorry to put you through this, Sara. Dating me is … different. I don't get to have normal relationships." He shook his head. "I'm just not that lucky, I guess."

"Well, all relationships are different," Sara said slowly. "I don't necessarily think there is a formula that we have to follow."

"True," he said. "But, still …" He paused and cleared his throat. "We don't have the luxury of going slow in this relationship. I mean, we can take things slowly, but … we have to commit to a lot of things right from the beginning."

Sara frowned. "Is this a proposal?"

He smiled. "No. I don't mean it like that. What I mean is, as soon as I'm seen with a woman, especially after being unmarried for so many years, the press gives it a lot of attention. Which means, the country gives it a lot of attention."

He drew a deep breath and continued, "I started to explain this yesterday, but I didn't really do it justice. The thing is, Sara, if we keep going with this, you truly are going to become a public figure. They'll photograph you at every opportunity. They'll print anything they can about you. Everyone in the country will know where you shop if we're not careful – and, everyone in the country will have an opinion about it."

Sara sighed. "Ecklie said something along those lines today."

"If you don't want that kind of celebrity, I understand," Gil said, his eyes betraying how much his words cost him. "I was born into this life; I have no choice about how I live it. Catherine and I were taught from the time we were children how to best avoid the paparazzi so we can have some semblance of privacy. But …" He sighed. "I know it's all new to you. And, we can do our best to make sure that you maintain some privacy, as well."

"Gil, I …" Tears filled her eyes. "I'm not as worried about _me_ as I am about _you_."

"About me?" he asked blankly. "Sara, I'm used to this. I know what to expect."

"Not from me, you don't."

"What do you mean?"

"Listen, I'm going to tell you, but …" A tear slid down her cheek; she impatiently brushed it away. "After I tell you, if you want to end this, it's fine. I can be the 'mystery woman' forever, and there will be no harm done."

"Sara, what are you trying to say?"

She drew a deep breath. "When Ecklie saw the picture, he flipped. Jim said he was worried that it would suggest that he only got the Prince of Graccia Award because you wanted to make me happy."

Gil laughed. "If I wanted to make you happy, I would have given it to _you_. Besides, I'm not the only one who makes that decision. I have a whole panel that works together on it."

"I'll make sure to tell him," she said with a ghost of a smile. "But, while he was freaking out on me, he said something … and you just confirmed it for me. My life is now public domain."

"I tried to make you understand that last night –"

"I didn't think it through," Sara said quickly. "I just thought of my life now, and what it means for me. Like you said, all I was thinking was that everyone would know what kind of juice I like. But, Ecklie made me see … they'll look into my past, too."

Gil nodded, nervousness creeping into his eyes. "What happened, Sara?"

"It's … my family."

"Your family," Gil repeated.

She nodded, another tear falling. "My mother … was schizophrenic. Fine on her meds, not so fine off them. She wasn't diagnosed until right after I was born. My father didn't know how to handle both a schizophrenic wife and a new baby. It was … difficult. My parents were always arguing, often fighting – physically."

"Sara," Gil whispered.

She shook her head, and her tears began to fall faster. "When I was thirteen, they had a huge fight. My dad went to bed – they definitely didn't believe in that 'don't go to bed angry' thing. While he was asleep …" She paused and swallowed. "My mother took a knife from the kitchen and stabbed him in the heart. Repeatedly." She swallowed again. "She killed him."

Gil reached across and grabbed her hand. She held his hand tightly, willing herself not to sob. Not yet.

"She was taken into custody, and I was sent to foster care. I visited her a couple times a month. She was never sent to jail, because of her illness. But, she spent the rest of her life in a facility for … people like her. She – she died two years ago." She looked at him tearfully. "So, there you have it. If they start digging into my life, they'll find that my schizophrenic mother killed my father, and that I grew up in foster care."

As she dissolved into sobs, Gil reached for her, pulling her against him. She leaned against his shoulder and cried for the first time since her mother's funeral. He didn't say anything as he stroked her back and hair. What could he say? What words could possibly take away her pain?

"I'm sorry," she said, straightening up as her tears slowly ended. "I've … never told anyone about this before. No one I've known in my adult life, anyway."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Sara … I'm honored that you would trust me with something like this."

"What choice do I have?" she nearly whispered. "Gil, I'm not the kind of girl you should be with. I don't have the kind of background that makes a princess. I'm not –"

"You," he interrupted, putting a finger over her lips to stop her words, "are the girl I _want_ to be with. How do I know what makes a good princess? What makes a good queen? But, I do know what makes a good relationship. And, I think we've got the beginnings of that down."

Sara smiled, still wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Gil … the press won't treat you kindly for dating someone like me."

"I'm not worried about me," he said with a shrug. "The press has speculated all sorts of things about me over the years. Do you know how many love children I supposedly have? Do you know how many times I've read that I'm gay?"

Sara smiled. "I did read that about you. I never understood how those two could go together."

He smiled. "I'm used to them printing whatever they want to print," he said. "But, Sara, I'm worried about you. If you're right – and you probably are – they will print what they can find about your family. You just said yourself that this is something that you keep close." He exhaled slowly. "If you want to back out of this relationship now to protect yourself, I'll more than understand."

Sara held his eyes. "You're willing to withstand it for me. Shouldn't I be willing to do the same for you?"

"It's not the same, Sara, and I won't pretend that it is. I really want you to think about this before you agree."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Do you know what I was afraid of all day today?"

He shook his head.

"I thought that I'd see you, and tell you this horrible story, and you'd smile and say it was fun while it lasted. I never dreamed …" She shook her head. "You are amazing. You know that, right?"

He raised the hand he held to his lips and opened it. He placed a gentle kiss in her palm. "Sara, _you_ are the amazing one. To have lived through what you did, and to be such a wonderful person … I can't believe that you'd consider for a moment staying with me, volunteering to let your story become common knowledge."

She shook her head. "I know. I'm not sure what is wrong with me. Any sane person would keep this as close to the vest as possible. But …" She smiled. "I just … have this feeling. About you. About us. I just … feel like it's worth it, you know?"

"Yes," he said, smiling at her. "I know." He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "So … we're going to do this?"

Sara nodded, smiling a happy smile. "We're going to do this."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks for your patience with this one. I've had a bit of writers block with this story. I hope you like this new addition!

* * *

><p><em>Royal Residence, Kendell Hall, Kendell<em>

Gil smiled and brushed a strand of Sara's hair back from her face. "Would you like to have dinner?"

Suddenly and unexpectedly hungry, Sara nodded. With the weight of telling him about her parents off her shoulders, she could feel more like herself again.

"Excellent." He pressed a button, and within moments, two servants appeared carrying trays of food.

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "That was quick."

Gil smiled slightly. "I told them we'd have dinner on the patio. They were prepared."

"Oh."

The women who had brought in their meal finished laying out the food, and stepped back from the table. Gil stood, holding out a hand to help Sara to her feet.

"Thank you," he said the servants as he led Sara to the table. "That will be all."

Nodding and bobbing curtseys, the two women left them alone. Sara gave Gil a teasing smile.

"What's this? A moment without the entourage?"

"They won't give me a moment's peace outside the residences," he said. "But, inside, I can find some solitude."

"That must be refreshing."

He shrugged. "I never thought of it like that."

"How do you see it?"

He looked down, then up again. "This is my life, Sara. It is what it is. It's all I've ever known. It's not something I see as an infringement upon my freedom. The guards are there for my safety. I can hardly argue with that."

"I suppose not," Sara agreed. "Does everyone in your family have the same security?"

"Well, that depends. My parents have even more, of course. Catherine has slightly less."

Sara frowned. "Why is that?"

"Part of it – the largest part – is that she is second in line to the throne. She is, as she always says, my back-up."

"So, you're more important than she is?" Sara asked, her frown deepening.

"From a royal family standpoint … yes."

Sara's eyes widened in horror.

"Don't look like that!" Gil said quickly. "It's not as terrible as I'm making it sound. Don't think for a minute that she's less loved or less admired. If anything, she is the face of our generation. She's the one who goes among the people, who is always working with charities, who had the lavish wedding, who shows off her daughter – she's the public princess in ways I can never be." He suddenly looked incredibly tired. "She's the one the country loves."

Sara reached across the table to take his hand. "I don't agree with that."

He looked up at her.

"I won't deny that she's well-loved," she said. "But, if no one in this country cared about you, I don't think they'd bother writing articles about you. You can't sell magazines if you're not a talking point, right?"

He smiled a very small smile.

"We both know I've never met your sister, so I can't speak to her personality. But, Gil, getting to know you as I am … after only a few days, I already can see what a wonderful person you are. You're intelligent, you have a heart of gold, you truly care – about everything! You care about your family, about your country, about your position …" She trailed off and blushed a deep shade of pink. "… I even think you care about me," she finished quietly.

He put his other hand over hers. "I do," he said, his voice hoarse. "I care about you very much."

Their eyes met, and, for a very long moment, neither of them looked away. Finally, embarrassed by the attention, Sara looked down. The spell was broken; they both reclaimed their hands to finish eating.

"So, Catherine has it easier?"

"She doesn't travel with as many guards as I do," Gil said. "She can, on occasion, go out without anyone other than Warrick and Lindsey."

"And, that's all because she won't have to be queen?"

He smiled. "That, as I said, is part of it. The other reason she can is … well … she's _Catherine_."

Sara frowned, bemused.

Gil's smile widened. "She won't stand for it. Father has always called her his little rebel – with good reason."

"But, you're not rebellious?"

"I'm a terrible older brother, I'm afraid. I've always followed the rules, and done as I was told. I never really broke my parents' rules to make things easier for her."

Sara smiled. "But, she did for you?"

He smiled back. "Yes. In fact, she is the reason that you and I are together right now."

"What do you mean?"

"She pushed me to break the rules," he said. "She talked me into following my heart – into calling you, into asking you out, into telling Mother and Father that I was going to keep seeing you …" He trailed off, realizing what he had said.

"They don't want you to see me." It wasn't a question; he had admitted as much.

"It's very … unusual for a member of the royal family to marry someone who isn't somehow connected to the crown … of some country."

"Oh," Sara said quietly.

"But, Sara, I don't really care anymore," he said. "Catherine helped me talk to them, and … I'm going to keep seeing you. They can deal with it."

Sara smiled. "I think I like this Catherine. I need to meet her."

Gil grinned. "She'd like nothing better."

"When can I meet her?"

"Soon," Gil said. "I want her to meet you before I have to talk to my parents about your family. I think she'll have a better idea of how to tell them than I do."

Sara blanched. "They won't take it well, will they?"

He shrugged, getting up from the table and leaving the empty plates behind. "Sara, the only reason my father is king today is because three hundred years ago, someone killed someone and became king. The lineage may have jumped once or twice because someone died without an heir, but the throne has been in my family since that day. No matter what historical kings managed to convince their subjects about being set upon the throne by God or some divine law, we all know that it was sheer brute force – both to gain the throne and to maintain it. What happened between your parents is the stuff my family history is made of."

She exhaled and gave him a shaky smile as she followed him to the edge of the patio. "All right."

He took her hand. "I want to do this," he said again. "But, if at any time, it's too much for you, just say the word, and I will let you walk out of this relationship. No questions will be asked."

She squeezed his hand and turned her face up to look into his eyes. "If you can take it, so can I."

He brushed her hair back from her face with his free hand. "You have beautiful eyes," he whispered.

She smiled. "So do you."

Smiling at her, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. He pulled back ever so slightly to gauge her reaction. He looked at her closed eyes and serene face, and smiling again, dipped his head down to kiss her more thoroughly.

When the kiss ended, Sara looked up at him, her expression slightly dazed. He smiled at her.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Kissing a prince is amazing," she nearly whispered.

He shook his head. "Kissing _you_ is amazing."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

It was late when Gil took Sara home. She unlocked her door and looked up at him.

"Would you like to come in?"

Gil hesitated. Sara, realizing in an instant why he was hesitating, touched his arm.

"I'm not asking for a continuation of what we started on your sister's patio," she said. "I … want to let you into my life like you've let me into yours."

He smiled. "I don't want you to think that I don't _want_ to continue what we started, I just …"

Sara smiled and opened her apartment door. "I don't jump into bed on the second date, either."

Gil followed her into her apartment. He took a moment to study it, looking around at her bursting bookcases, her thriving plants, her eclectic paintings, and her comfortable furniture. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned to her with a smile.

"It's nothing like your palaces," she said quickly. "And, it's the only home I have – all year long. I hope you're –"

"Sara," he said, grabbing her hand and stopping her flow of words. "It's perfect."

She stared at him. "No, the palace we just left is perfect. This is –"

"It's _you_," he interrupted. "The palaces where I've lived, the one where Catherine lives now – they don't in any way represent who we are. This …" He waved his hand to include the entire living room, "I can see your soul in this room."

She blushed. "I don't know what to say to that."

He smiled. "I've rendered you speechless?"

"It's been known to happen before."

Sara's ringing cell phone interrupted their conversation. She pulled it from her bag, looked at the name on the display and sighed.

"I'm sorry, but this is work. I need to take it."

"Go ahead."

She opened the phone and brought it to her ear. "This is Sara."

"Hi, Sara," Jim said. "I'm sorry to have to do this, because I know you didn't leave all that long ago, but I really need you back. Swing just connected their new case to one of the ones we were working last week."

"Okay," Sara said, shaking her head at Gil. "I can be there in an hour."

"Great. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Sara closed her phone and looked at Gil.

"What?" he asked.

"I have to go back in," she said. "Something about a new case that ties in with one I was working last week. Jim didn't give me any details – for all I know, we're looking at serial killer."

Gil's eyebrows shot up. "I certainly hope not."

Sara's eyes widened. "Oh, wait. Don't look like that! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry. I'm so used to talking to the guys at the lab that I forget that normal people don't throw words like that around the same way we do. I'm sure it's not a serial killer. Please don't panic or tell your parents or your security detail or the press or –"

"Sara." He caught her hands again in what was quickly becoming a familiar gesture. "I get it. Calm down."

She smiled. "Sorry. There are huge repercussions for talking about cases."

"You don't need to explain."

"I'm sorry, too, about having to cut our evening short."

"I'd imagine that things like this happen quite often in your line of work."

"More often than I'd like," she said. It was an easy phrase to say, one that she had said many times before. However, as she stood in her apartment with Prince Gilbert, she was struck by the knowledge that it was the first time she truly _meant_ it.

"I'll go," he said, squeezing the hands he held in his. "I'm sure you need to get ready."

Sara nodded and walked with him to the door. "Wait," she said, grabbing his hand as he moved to turn the knob.

He turned to face her. "Yes?"

"Our next date – I want to plan it."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Please?" she said. "Let me show you who I really am."

"Okay," he agreed. "The thing is … I have security …"

"Give me Harold's number," she said. "I'll talk to him and make sure that everything meets his standards."

"What, I can't be your go-between?" he asked, already taking out his phone to find Harold's number.

"Nope," Sara said, her face lighting up with excitement. "This time, I want everything to be a surprise for you."

Gil gave her Harold's number, then leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked.

"For caring enough to plan a special day for us."

Sara grinned. "I think I deserve a better thank you kiss than that."

Grinning, Gil leaned down to give her her kiss.

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Hey," Sara said as she walked into the break room. "Lovely to see you all again so soon."

"Did you get some sleep?" Nick asked from his position next to the coffee maker.

"Nope," Sara said.

"Neither did I." Nick pulled another mug from the cupboard to pour Sara some coffee.

Greg looked at Sara for a moment, then grinned. "I know where you were!"

"Adding stalking to your resume?" Sara asked as she sat down across from him.

"You were with the Prince!"

Sara didn't even try to deny it; the deep red that started in her cheeks and spread to the roots of her hair gave her away.

"I can't believe you! What stunning place did he take you to today?"

"I don't really think that's any of your business."

"I disagree! He'll be my king someday; I have the right to know how he treats his dates."

"Leave her alone, Greg," Nick said, sitting down next to Sara and giving her one of the cups of coffee he was carrying.

"You're no fun," Greg said.

"Look," Nick said, "you're thinking of this all wrong. Stop thinking about the Prince, and start thinking about your friend. Sara's just met a new guy, and she's excited about her first couple dates with him, but unsure of where it's going. Don't you think we should be a little more supportive of her?"

"No," Greg said. "Because, it's not just any guy. It's _Prince Gilbert_. It's a big deal, Nick, and no matter what you say, that isn't going to change."

"I'd like this conversation to change, please," Sara said. "This is the reason I try _not_ to tell you guys what's going on in my life!"

"Can't help it this time, darlin'," Nick said.

"Damn press," Sara said with a smile. "They ruin half our investigations, and now they're messing with my personal life!"

"Date a prince, become news," Greg said.

"Okay, people, let's get to work," Jim said as he came into the room. "I need everyone to get their evidence and case notes together on the B and E turned homicide in a supermarket from last week. And, be quick about it – the main players from Swing are meeting us here in thirty minutes."

As one, they stood and went to gather their evidence. Greg caught up to Sara easily as they walked down the hall.

"Seriously, Sara, I do have one question for you."

Sara stopped walking and turned to face him. The earnest expression on his face almost caught her off-guard. "Okay," she said slowly.

"How does he treat you?"

Sara smiled, the memory of Gil's kiss still warm on her lips. "Like a princess."

Greg grinned. "Then, live it up, and I'll leave you alone about it."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Well … for now, at least."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks for continuing with this story! I hope you enjoy where it's going.

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"It does look eerily similar," Sara said, studying her crime scene photos and those taken by her counterparts on swing shift side-by-side.

"Eerily similar?" Monica, the lone woman on swing shift shook her head. "Sara, they could be the same crime scene."

"It has to be the same guy," Bruce, one of Monica's teammates said.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Nick said slowly.

Monica and Bruce looked at him in exasperation.

"Nick's right." Connor, the last member of swing involved in the case, leaned forward. "It could just as easily be a copycat, or, though less likely, a freaky coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidences," Sara said. "Not in terms of crime scenes."

"Okay, well, to keep Ms. Sidle happy, we can rule that out," Connor said, winking at her.

Sara rolled her eyes. "It's just illogical to think that the similarities are coincidental," she said. "What are the chances – seriously – that two crime scenes would be _this_ similar? Isn't it more logical to assume that it's the same person? Or, like Connor said, a copycat?"

"She's right," Greg said.

"Okay," Nick said, "Sara, Greg, Monica and Bruce want to assume we're dealing with the same person. Why can we assume that? What is the same? And, what is different?"

"Both murders were in stores – a grocery store and a pharmacy," Monica said. "Both were after hours. Both involved one victim – the only person who was still at work."

"Both happened around ten pm," Greg added. "Both involved blunt force trauma to the head, but we've ruled out weapons of opportunity." He looked at the members of swing shift across the table. "Have you?"

"Yeah," Connor confirmed.

"Which means that the killer likely took a weapon with him to the scene, and took it home after," Bruce said.

"Both bodies are positioned the same way," Sara said. She shook her head. "That's what freaks me out the most."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "He didn't just let them fall – he posed them."

"But, why?" Greg asked. "Is he trying to send us a message?"

"Could be the signature," Monica said.

Nick exhaled. "So, this is what we're going with? Serial killer?"

Looking around the table, they all nodded.

"Okay," Nick said. "I'll tell Brass."

"We'll let our people know," Bruce said.

"Then, we'll get to work," Connor said. "I'd really rather this serial stop at two."

* * *

><p><em>Royal Residence, Kendell Hall, Kendell<em>

"Back so soon?" Catherine teased as Gilbert found her in the drawing room the next morning. "You just can't get enough of this place."

Gilbert smiled. "Thank you, Catherine, for letting me use your house."

"Don't mention it," she said with a wave of her hand. "Did you and Sara have a nice time?"

He smiled a dreamy smile. "Yes." He blinked and looked at his sister again. "She wants to meet you."

Catherine grinned. "Good. I want to meet her, too."

"Cath … before you do …"

"Oh, no," she sighed as he sat down next to her. "What now?"

"I need to tell you about her family."

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Hammer?" Greg suggested.

"Try it."

Sara stood back as Greg swung the hammer he was holding at their replica of a human head. As he put the hammer down, Sara stepped forward with autopsy photos. She held a picture of the fatal wound next to the fake head. She and Greg had only studied it for a moment when they both shook their heads.

"We'll keep looking," Sara said, crossing "hammer" off the list they had made on the white board behind them.

"Hey," Jim said as he entered the room. "Sorry to break up the party, but I need you two at a scene."

"What's up?" Sara asked.

"We've got another body." He looked grim. "It looks like it could be our serial."

* * *

><p><em>Royal Residence, Kendell Hall, Kendell<em>

"Wow," Catherine said as Gilbert concluded his story. "So, your little Sara has a not-so-nice past, huh?"

"She's worried about it," Gilbert said. "She was terrified to even tell me. She thought I'd leave her over it."

"You're not, right?"

He smiled. "No."

"Good," Catherine said, leaning back in her chair. "I'd hate to think that I wasted a perfectly good fight with Mother over something you were going to end within a week."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Here's the thing, Cath – "

"Mother and Father will find out," she interrupted. She shrugged. "I don't think it'll be a problem."

"You do realize that we're talking about _our_ Mother and Father, right?"

"Yes," she said. "It's just … I think that it would be a bit hypocritical of them to be outraged over this. We do come from a long line of violence and imprisonment."

"That's what I told Sara."

Catherine exhaled. "You'd better tell them, Gil. The sooner the better. We don't want them getting this from a tabloid."

"Will you …?" he trailed off uncertainly.

Catherine smiled. "I'll be there."

* * *

><p><em>Gordon's Fine Jewelry, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Hi," Detective Vartann said as Sara, Greg and Nick ducked under the crime scene tape.

"Hi," they echoed in unison.

"Robbery-homicide," Vartann said. "The vic is Evan Gordon, the shop owner. According to his manager's statement, he was the one to lock up every day."

"Last one here?" Sara asked, exchanging a look with Nick and Greg.

"Yes."

"Brass says you're thinking serial?" Nick said.

"Well, the scene looks awfully familiar," Vartann said. "Come with me."

He led them to the back of the shop, where the victim had spent his last moments. They looked at the familiar position and nodded.

"Yeah," Nick said at last. "It's our serial."

Sara exhaled. "We'd better call swing in. They'll want to see this."

* * *

><p><em>Private Residence, Royal Palace, Wendelsburg<em>

"Your Highness?"

Gilbert looked up from the book he was reading at the sound of Harold's voice. "Yes?"

"I have … instructions for you, Sir."

Gilbert frowned. "Instructions?"

Harold nodded, looking rather uncomfortable. "From Miss Sidle."

Gilbert's frown melted away, replaced with a smile. "Of course. She said she would be in touch with you."

"She has made plans for Saturday," Harold said, handing him a sheet of paper. "I've written down everything that she wants you to know."

"Excellent. Thank you, Harold."

"You're welcome, Sir."

Gilbert turned his attention to the instructions from Sara; he barely noticed Harold leave the room.

The list was short, and left very few clues as to what they would be doing. It merely requested that he wear something casual that would be serviceable both inside a restaurant and outside in nature.

"Nature?" Gilbert asked. "What on earth …?"

He grinned in anticipation. He could hardly wait until Saturday.

* * *

><p><em>Press Briefing Room, Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"All available officers have been assigned to this case," Brass said, holding his hands up as if to calm the crowd of reporters. "At this time, we are asking that anyone with information about the murders of Evan Gordon, Casey Mitchell or Becky Hamilton please come forward."

"Are the murders related?" a reporter shouted.

"Are you saying that this is a serial killer?" another yelled.

"I'm saying that we are doing everything in our power to keep the citizens of Wendelsburg and the surrounding communities safe," Brass said. "Thank you."

He stepped down from the podium amid a barrage of shouted questions, ignoring them all. His team met him in the hallway.

"Talk to me," he said.

"The murders are all related," Nick said at once. "Sara and Greg have determined that the weapon in all three was a two-by-four."

"A two-by-four?" Brass asked. "That's unusual."

"Not necessarily," Sara said. "In some places, it's legal to beat your wife with a two-by-four not longer than your arm."

"Good to know," Brass said. "What else do you have?"

"Swing found a footprint at their scene from the other day – men's size ten," Greg said. "We found the same print at the new scene."

"And, the first scene?"

"We're still sorting those out," Sara said. "A grocery store has a lot more foot traffic."

Brass nodded. "Okay. Anything else?"

"We're still matching fingerprints."

"So, nothing else."

"Yeah," Nick acknowledged.

"Okay. Keep me in the loop." He shook his head. "This just shot to high-profile, guys. Treat it carefully."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

Sara felt unduly nervous as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She stared at her reflection, dismayed to discover that she looked as nervous as she felt.

"It's going to be fine," she said to her reflection. "He'll love it."

Sighing, she turned from the mirror to pick up her bag. "And, if he doesn't, there's nothing I can do now. Everything is arranged."

She glanced at the clock. She needed to leave or risk being late. Ignoring her last misgivings, she headed for her car.

* * *

><p><em>Bay of Vinccenzo<em>

Sara need not have worried about being late; she arrived at the pre-arranged meeting point at the Bay with time to spare. After checking several times to make sure she had everything she needed, she left her car and went to wait for her prince.

She only needed to pace for several minutes before his car drove up. To her surprise, Gilbert bounded out of the car before Clark could open his door for him. He looked wonderful in his khakis and button-down – the most casual clothes she had ever seen him wear – but it was his beaming smile that captured her attention.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Know what?" Sara asked, meeting him halfway and accepting his kiss on her cheek.

"That I've always wanted to come here," he said.

She smiled. "What?"

"I've always wanted to come here," he repeated. "But, I've never had a chance."

"You're kidding, right? You've lived about thirty minutes from this beach for your entire life!"

"I know," he said. "Mother never wanted to go to the beach for fear that someone would get an unflattering picture of her. Father took us sometimes, but always when we were away."

"That explains your childhood," Sara said. "But, you're an adult know."

"I know. I've always thought that I'd come here someday, but …" He shrugged. "It's never happened."

Sara shook her head. "I come here at least once a week. I thought we could play on the beach for a while, then go have dinner at this little restaurant that overlooks the ocean."

Gilbert grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "That sounds perfect."

Sara's face lit up. "Really?"

"Really." He squeezed her hand again. "Let's go."

With Harold standing back as far as he could while still watching over them, Sara and Gilbert climbed up the steps of the boardwalk. Sara tugged on Gilbert's hand to stop him from continuing.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You have to take your shoes off," she said as she kicked off her sandals.

"Is that a requirement?" he asked, smiling playfully.

"Yes, Your Highness," she teased. "Take them off."

Pulling his hand from hers, Gilbert bent over to remove his shoes and socks. Once they were off, he looked up at her expectantly.

"_Now_ can we go to the beach?"

Sara grinned and took his hand. "Now we can go to the beach."

They stepped down onto the sand. Sara relished the feel of the cool sand between her toes and looked up at Gilbert. He was staring at the waves as though transfixed. Sara grinned.

"Come on."

She led him to the water, stopping where the waves could lap at their ankles. Gilbert stared out at the horizon, then pulled Sara against his side and pressed a kiss against her temple.

"Thank you," he said. "This is … I love it. You can just look out and feel so small, yet so connected with the world, the universe …" He trailed off and smiled. "I'm not making sense."

"You're making complete sense," Sara said, staring up at him. "That's exactly how I feel when I stand here."

Gilbert looked at her in surprise. After a moment's pause, his eyes softened.

"I don't know what it is about you, Sara," he said softly. "I've never met anyone like you before. I've only known you a few weeks, but you understand me in ways that no one else does."

"It seems strange," Sara agreed. "But, I feel like we're so much alike, even though our lives are so drastically different." She put her hand over his heart. "But, here, where it matters …"

Gilbert put his hand over hers. "We're the same."

* * *

><p>They were laughing over something at dinner when Harold interrupted them.<p>

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Your Highness," he said. "I just received a message from Princess Catherine that you need to see."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "Okay," he said.

Harold handed over his cellphone. Gilbert studied the image for a moment, then nodded.

"Thank you, Harold."

"Is there anything you'd like me to do, sir?"

"No."

"Very well."

Harold faded back into the shadows, and Sara looked at Gilbert with questions in her eyes.

"SLY posted a photo of us," he said. "Today."

"From today?" Sara asked.

"Yes." His eyes softened. "I know I should be embarrassed or angry, but …" He smiled sheepishly. "It's a nice picture, Sara. We're walking on the beach, holding hands."

Sara smiled, but felt a bit anxious. "Does this … mean anything?"

Gilbert sighed. "My father suggested that I go public with our relationship. Is that something you'd like for us to do?"

"What does that mean?"

"I'll have a press release that says your name, that we're seeing each other, and that we're enjoying each other's company or something of that sort." He began to look uncomfortable. "As soon as I release that much information, the press will begin looking into who you are. It's like we talked about, Sara – your privacy will begin to vanish."

Sara reached across the table to take his hand. "I'd rather have you than privacy."

Gilbert blushed as he smiled at her. He cleared his throat. "I'll make the announcement tomorrow."

"And break about a hundred thousand hearts."

He smiled. "As long as yours isn't one of them, I really don't care."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

As was her habit, Sara turned on the news while she was getting ready for work the next day. The lead story, not surprisingly, was the hunt for the serial killer. She wasn't exactly shocked by how quickly the media had latched onto the story, but wished they would stop referring to the killer as a serial. She had a feeling it was giving him the extra attention he was seeking.

"In lighter news, Prince Gilbert was seen once again in the company of a lovely young woman," the newscaster said.

Sara stopped dead and stared at the screen as a picture of her and Gilbert walking along the beach was splashed across it. She bit her cheeks to keep from smiling. He was right – it was a very nice picture.

"The Royal Palace has released a statement about their relationship," the newscaster continued.

Words built across the screen as the man read the statement. _Prince Gilbert has recently been seen in the company of Miss Sara Sidle. He and Miss Sidle both appreciate having the opportunity to get to know one another, and to develop a relationship. They ask that the media and the public respect their privacy at this time._

Sara exhaled. It was done.

* * *

><p><em>Police Headquarters, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"What about this one?"

Sara looked closely. "That could be a match. Are there any that are clearer?"

Nick laughed and indicated the stack of shoe prints in front of them. "Take your pick."

"This is going to take days."

"It's a grocery store. They're busy places."

"So I've heard," Sara said, pulling another shoe print toward her.

"Sara, I need to see you."

Sara and Nick both looked at Jim as he stood in the doorway.

"Okay," Sara said. She put the shoeprint down.

"I'll send Greg to help you, Nick," Jim said.

Sara frowned. "How long do you need me, Jim?"

He ignored her question and led her down the hallway. He poked his head into the Trace lab, where Greg was picking up results.

"Greg, when you're done here, go help Nick match shoeprints."

"Okay."

Jim turned to Sara. "Come on."

He led her to his office, and closed the door behind them. Sara looked at him quizzically.

"What's going on?"

"You're off the serial case," he said flatly.

Sara's jaw dropped. "What? Why?"

Jim smiled sadly. "You've become high-profile, Sara. I can't let you work this case anymore. It's not good for the integrity of the case, and, more importantly, it's just not safe for you."

"So, this is how it's going to be now?" Sara asked, her eyes snapping. "I can't work in the field because of whom I'm seeing?"

"I didn't say that," Jim said. "You just can't work cases like this one."

"Not at all? Not even in the lab?"

"Not when it's this high-profile." Jim sighed. "Look … we just got a domestic call. Cavalier is going to the scene, but he'll want a CSI to document. Do you want it?"

"Sure," Sara said, snatching the assignment slip from his hands. "Since that's all I'm good for now, I'll take it."

"Sara, don't be like this …"

"Jim, just …"

Sara left his office without ending her sentence. She had no idea _how_ to end it.

Her hands shook as she walked out of the building and to her car. She sat down in the vehicle and exhaled.

_I'd rather have you than privacy._

Her words to Prince Gilbert rang through her head. She had meant them the night before, and still meant them. It was somehow easy to give up her privacy for him.

But, to give up this case …

She closed her eyes and focused on the way he had looked at her on the beach. She sighed.

She would do it. She would give up the case, and all the other high-profile cases that would follow, for him.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: It's another short one, but, again, I'm really happy with where it ends. I hope you like it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

><p><em>Crime Scene, 147 Devon Street, Kendell<em>

"You guys are going to think I'm a terrible person for saying this, but I love it when things like this happen in the affluent suburbs."

Sara and Greg looked at Nick as though he had lost his mind.

"You _enjoy_ a double homicide?" Sara asked incredulously.

"I enjoy that it's not happening downtown," Nick said. He grinned. "Score one for us city folk."

Greg shook his head. "You, sir, are insane."

"Maybe." Nick looked around. "So, this is Kendell. Isn't there a palace around here somewhere?"

"Kendell Hall," Sara and Greg said in unison.

"I thought –"

"Wait a minute!" Greg interrupted Nick. He whirled around to stare at Sara. "You've been there!"

"Greg –"

"No, you must have been!" Greg exclaimed. "There is _no way_ that anti-monarchist Sara, who acted like she didn't know anything about the Prince of Graccia Award, would have _any_ idea that there is even a palace in Kendell, let alone what it's called, unless she had been there!"

"All right, fine, I've been there," Sara said testily, blushing to the roots of her hair. "Can we get back to work now, please?"

"No way! I want details! What is it like inside?"

Sara considered the question. "Museum-like," she finally said.

Greg shook his head. "Not good enough. I could have guessed that much."

"You've never been inside the palace, Greg?" Nick asked with a grin, thoroughly amused by the conversation.

"It's a private residence, Nick. It's never been open to the public."

"Ah," Nick said.

"Look, Greg, I really don't remember much about the décor," Sara said. "We had dinner outside."

Greg looked as though his head was going to explode. Sara was saved from further questioning by the arrival of Brass.

"Sara, go process inside," he said. "Nick, go give her a hand."

"Okay."

Brass followed them into the house, where the coroner was just finishing with the bodies. Nick approached David, but Brass put his hand on Sara's shoulder to stop her from joining them.

"You do not leave this house until I say so."

Sara frowned. "What?"

He stepped closer. "There are quite a few concerned citizens out there who seem to be taking quite a few pictures."

"That's not unusual," Sara said. "Did you want one of us to collect their phones?"

"They're not taking pictures of the crime scene, exactly."

"Jim, just get to the point," Sara said, quickly becoming annoyed.

"They're taking pictures of _you_, Sara."

"But, why would they …?" Sara trailed off as understanding dawned.

"You're high-profile now, remember?" Jim said.

She stared at him.

"From now on, when you're in the field, you only do interiors, okay? And, do your best to make sure that no one who isn't part of the investigation knows you're at the scene."

Sara nodded dumbly.

Gil had warned her extensively about the attention she would get from the media. She had never expected that she would receive just as much attention from ordinary people.

* * *

><p><em>Royal Residence, Kendell Hall, Kendell<em>

It was with a great deal of effort that Sara pushed aside what had happened at the crime scene. She had to shake it off – she had a big evening planned. Or, rather, Gil had a big evening planned for them.

"Are you okay?" Gil asked as the car pulled to a stop in front of Catherine's house. "You seem a little off."

"Not really," Sara admitted. "It's just some work stuff, though."

"Can you talk about it?"

"Honestly, Gil, I'd rather not." She sighed. "Really, you don't need to worry about it."

He looked at her with concern. "Are you sure?"

She nodded as Clark opened the door for them. They climbed out of the car, and Gilbert offered Sara his arm to lead her up the walk to the front door.

"It's just going to be Catherine tonight," he said. "Warrick and Lindsey are visiting family."

"Okay."

Gil looked at her. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She smiled. "I'm fine, Gil. Are _you_? You seem a little nervous."

He smiled slightly. "She's my sister, Sara. I just really hope you'll like her."

Sara's smile widened. "Aren't you worried about her liking me?"

He squeezed the hand that rested on his arm and smiled at her. "No. I know she'll love you."

With that exchange, Sara was finally able to brush aside what had happened at work. In its place, however, she felt a sudden nervousness about meeting Catherine.

Time to panic, however, was limited. Within moments, they were walking into the palace. A servant met them at the front door.

"Hello, Your Highness," she said, dropping into a curtsey.

"Hello, Patty," he replied. "How are you?"

"Fine, sir," she said. "The Princess is waiting in the library. Shall I take you there?"

"No, I can find it," he said, smiling. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Your Highness."

Gil turned to Sara. "Shall we?"

She nodded, once again stunned by the way he navigated this world that was so foreign to her.

Gil steered her through a maze of hallways – for the second time, she failed to notice the details as they walked – and stopped before a partially open door. He looked at her intently.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," Sara said.

"Okay." Gil opened the door and led her into the library.

"Hello!" Catherine jumped up from her chair and stepped forward, hand outstretched to Sara. "I'm Catherine."

Sara shook her hand, remembering at the last second that she should have curtsied to the Princess. Before she could drop into a curtsey, however, Catherine pulled her across the room.

"Gil tells me that you like books," she said. "I wanted to meet you in here so I could show you this. We just got it last week."

Sara looked down at the desk to see an antiquated Bible.

"It's from before Gutenberg," Catherine said. "Can you believe it? Monks actually copied every letter, every illustration. It's amazing."

"Beautiful," Sara breathed, wanting to touch the manuscript, but afraid to do so. She looked up at Catherine. "I'm Sara, by the way."

Catherine laughed. "I'm sorry. I guess I came on a little strong. This is a new experience for me, too. Gil hasn't ever brought anyone home for me to meet before."

Sara arched an eyebrow and looked from Catherine to Gil. He shrugged helplessly.

"I've been excited to meet you for quite a while," Catherine said. She smiled. "I've never seen Gil like this about a woman before."

Sara blushed, unsure of how to answer that. "I'm very honored to meet you," she finally said.

Catherine looked mildly annoyed for a moment, as quickly as the look appeared, it vanished. She smiled. "Well. Shall we have dinner on the patio? I know Gil likes to eat outside."

"Wait," Sara said, realizing where she had likely erred. "I want to be clear with you, and I don't think I was a moment ago."

Catherine arched an eyebrow in question.

"I didn't mean that I'm honored to meet you because of your …" Sara paused and took a deep breath. "I'm honored to meet Gil's sister. That's all."

Catherine looked at her for a moment, then grinned. "You were right, Gil," she said, still holding Sara's eyes. "She's special."

"I told you," he said.

Catherine grabbed her arm. "Come on. Let's go have dinner."

* * *

><p>Catherine was at once bubbly and forceful, a combination that Sara found to be rather baffling. All the same, she liked Gil's sister very much. She could easily see why he said that she had less security than he did because of her own whims. She clearly was not one who would stand for having the terms of her life dictated to her.<p>

"Thank you," Sara said as they prepared to leave after dinner. "Everything was amazing."

Catherine smiled. "I'm glad we finally had a chance to meet," she said. "I have a feeling we're going to be friends."

Sara smiled. "I hope so." She had a feeling she was going to need another ally when dealing with Gil's family.

Catherine looked from Sara to her brother. "Hang on to this one, Gil," she said. "You need her."

He smiled and took Sara's hand. "I fully intend to."

After giving hugs to both Gil and a rather surprised Sara, Catherine sent them on their way.

"That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Sara asked playfully as she and Gil walked back to his waiting car.

He gave her a sidelong glance. "No."

Sara shook her head and smiled. "You're allowed to calm down now, you know."

He smiled slightly. "I'm glad you and Catherine got along so well," he said. "She certainly speaks her mind, so if she didn't like you, we'd both know already."

"Well, then, I'm glad I passed the test." She frowned. "You still look upset."

They climbed into the car, both greeting Clark and Harold. Gil raised the barrier between them and the two men, and looked at Sara.

"What?" she asked, a bit concerned by his intense stare.

"When we got here …" He trailed off and looked away from her.

"Hey," Sara said, putting her hand over his. "Tell me."

His face showed his inner struggle for a moment, then cleared slightly as he made a decision.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Sara was rather taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"When we got here, you told me something was bothering you, but you wouldn't tell me what it was other than that it had to do with work." He sighed. "I come from a long, sad history of arranged marriages, Sara. My family tree is a long line of failed marriages that never ended because royals can't get divorced. So, they've done the next best thing: staying married for the sake of the crown, but having affairs with the ones they truly loved."

Sara nodded slowly. She had known that – history was full of the openly secret affairs the royal family had had.

"I don't want that life," Gil said. "I've _never_ wanted that life. The one thing in our lives that I've always resisted was arranged marriage. Catherine has supported me – it's probably the main reason I've been able to stay single for so long. But now …

"I meant what I said to Catherine," he continued. "I don't want to let you go. I want this relationship to be strong, Sara. But, if you're not willing to share yourself with me – especially when it's something that's so obviously upsetting you – then, I don't …" He trailed off again and looked away from her.

Tears filled Sara's eyes at his words, at the depth of emotion in his voice. For the first time in her life, she felt truly loved.

"I was photographed at a crime scene," she said, her voice raspy with unshed tears. "It's not the paparazzi that's following me, it's ordinary citizens. And, because of all the extra attention, I'm not allowed to work high-profile cases. That's been the rule since the announcement. But, after what happened this morning, Jim said I'm not allowed to work outside at a crime scene – today, I had to stay inside the house. And, I'm not allowed to tell anyone who isn't directly involved in my cases that I'm at a crime scene." She exhaled. "I don't regret anything, Gil. I really, truly don't. It's just impacting my life in ways that I didn't anticipate."

Gil squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm sorry that I'm causing you so much pain."

Sara's wide eyes snapped up to his face. "What do you mean? You're not doing anything! Gil, you are the one thing that has _never_ caused me pain."

"If it weren't for me – for who I am – this wouldn't be happening to you."

Sara shook her head. "I don't care."

Gil frowned. "But, you said …"

"Well, yes, of course I care about what's happening at work. But, when I consider the alternative …" She smiled. "My job is important to me, Gil, but _you're_ the one I love, not it. I …"

Sara trailed off, her eyes widening with the realizing of her admission. She didn't have a chance to say another word; Gil's lips claimed hers in the sweetest, gentlest kiss she had ever had.

"I love you, too," he said hoarsely, kissing her again. "That's why this is so important to me, Sara. I don't want to screw this up."

She took his face between her hands and looked deeply into his eyes. "We won't screw this up," she said. "I promise."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay in this and all my stories! I'm back to work now that school is in session, and still working to master my time management for the new year. I'm slowly getting back into my stride.

I hope you enjoy this update! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

><p><em>Gil's private car, en route from Kendell<em>

Gil pulled back from their kiss and looked deeply into Sara's eyes. "I want to take you somewhere else," he said.

"Okay," Sara said, a bit dazed by all that had happened in the past few moments.

Gil lowered the barrier and leaned forward to speak to Harold and Clark. Sara had absolutely no idea what words were exchanged. When Gil leaned back into his seat again, he reached for Sara, who willingly cuddled against him.

"Where are we going?"

"White Oak," he replied.

"Where's that?"

"South of town."

Sara nodded. "What's there?"

"Nothing much," he said. "It's a residence."

"One of yours?"

Gil nodded. "It's my favorite of the residences."

"I thought Catherine's house was your favorite."

"I loved spending summers there," he acknowledged. "But, White Oak is different. We never really lived there for any extended period of time. We'd go for a few days here and there just to get away. I always think of it as the one place where I can have total peace."

Sara smiled and snuggled deeper into his embrace. "It sounds wonderful."

He kissed the top of her head. "I think you'll like it."

After a longer drive than Sara had anticipated, they pulled into the extensive driveway of the house. Sara was surprised by how far back from the road the house sat.

"You are tucked away here, aren't you?" she said as they climbed out of the car.

Gil nodded. "It's one of the few places I consider to be truly safe from prying eyes."

They walked to the front door, which Gil unlocked. Sara looked at him with raised eyebrows as they walked into the dark foyer.

"No one to greet us?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Since no one lives here and it isn't open to the public, the house isn't regularly staffed. If any of us are going to be here, we usually have a few people come to get it ready and stay through our visit."

"So, this was an unplanned stop?"

He nodded, suddenly looking nervous. "Sara, I don't want you to think that I brought you here to seduce you …"

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's _not_ why you brought me here?"

He looked at her wordlessly. Sara laughed and grabbed his hand.

"Come on," she said. "Show me around."

Gil was a very willing tour guide. He pointed out favorite places and activities as they walked through the house. They finally found their way to the kitchen. He smiled at the memories that came charging at him.

"I love this room," he said. "In every single residence, the kitchen is my favorite room."

"Really?"

He nodded. "It was our hiding place – mine and Catherine's. We'd always go to the kitchen to avoid things we didn't want to deal with. Our cooks are wonderful – they'd always let us stay and help them, or sample what they were making. Even now, we often wind up in the kitchen to chat." He smiled. "It was in the kitchen in the downtown residence that I first told her about you."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really?"

Gil nodded. "We met there after the award ceremony, and I told her about the beautiful woman I had met."

"And, what did she say?" Sara asked playfully.

"To be careful," he said, taking her question far more seriously than it had been intended. "She told me that I had to really want this if I was going to put you through everything that you're going through now."

"And?" Sara asked.

He smiled. "What do you think?"

Sara leaned forward to kiss him. "That I want this as much as you do."

He pulled her to him and kissed her. They both tried to move closer together; Gil, the stronger of the two, backed them against a counter. Sara felt it pressing against her back as he leaned her into it, kissing her deeply.

"Gil," she whispered as he moved his kisses to her neck.

"Hm?"

"Gil, listen to me."

He pulled back and looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"Before we do this, I want you to know …" She paused, blushing a deep shade of red. "I don't have much … experience with sex."

"We're not going to have sex," he said.

Sara's mouth dropped open. "But … I thought …"

He took her hand. "Sara, I don't want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"We use the words as synonyms, but they aren't, really," he said. "Not to me."

"What is the difference, then?" she asked. "Teach me."

He smiled. "Sex is … a physical act. Making love is that same act, with the addition of emotion." He kissed the hand he was holding. "Of love."

Sara felt sparks shot through her at his husky tone. "In that case, I don't have _any_ experience."

"Neither do I," he said. "It's sort of … sad, don't you think? There's really no point in having sex without love, but people do it all the time."

Sara nodded. "Not us, though."

"Not us," he agreed. "There is nothing sad about us." He smiled. "Come on. I want to continue your tour in my bedroom."

Feeling simultaneously more nervous and excited than she ever had in her life, Sara nodded. Gil looked at her with a bit of concern.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded again. "It's just …" She exhaled, blushing an even deeper shade of red. "Making love … to a prince … is a little … daunting."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. When he pulled away, her eyes remained closed for a moment as she smiled. When she opened them, she saw him studying her intently.

"I love you," he nearly whispered. "I love you as a _man_, Sara, not as a prince. Make love to that man tonight." He kissed her again. "Let him make love to you."

Sara shivered as he ran the backs of his fingers down her cheeks, her neck and her chest. "I love you, too," she whispered. "I want to make love to you, Gil. Don't think that I don't want this." She smiled. "I guess I'm just nervous."

He smiled, blushing slightly. "So am I."

His admission caught Sara by surprise. Her eyes rounded. "You are?"

He smiled again. "Of course. I realize this is a huge moment in our relationship." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Are you ready for it?"

"Yes," Sara nearly whispered. "Show me your bedroom, Gil. Now."

Nearly groaning, he led her up the stairs to his bedroom.

* * *

><p><em>Royal Residence, White Oak<em>

When Sara opened her eyes the next morning, Gil was leaning his head on his arm, looking at her intently. She smiled in response to his smile.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied, reaching over to play with her hair. "How do you feel?"

Her smile widened. "Amazing."

He grinned. "I do, too."

She hummed and rolled into his arms. "Can we stay like this forever?"

"That sounds perfect," he said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "We might get hungry, though."

Sara giggled. "What would my poor prince do if that were to happen? His cook isn't here to make him breakfast!"

"I can cook," Gil said almost defiantly.

Sara turned to look up at him, her expression disbelieving.

"I can," he said. "Remember, I loved being in the kitchen when I was a child. Those cooks taught me quite a bit."

"Really?"

"Really," he affirmed. "I love to cook. It's actually … relaxing."

Sara grinned. "Care to show off your skills?"

"I'd be happy to."

* * *

><p>Dressed in nothing more than the flannel pants he had found in a drawer, Gil stood at the stove, presiding over their breakfast. Sara, clad in the button down shirt Gil had worn the night before, sat on a stool pulled up to the counter, watching him.<p>

"Does your mother know you can cook?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's never come up."

"Really?"

He looked up from the stove to smile at her. "We're not a normal family, Sara."

"No," she said slowly, "I suppose not."

"Do you know how much I've wanted a normal family?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've always wanted something … different. I want to know what my children can do – if they can cook, or if they would rather play sports. My parents … I know they love me. I know that. But, they never … got involved like other parents – _normal_ parents – do. And, I feel like Catherine and I missed out."

Sara got up from her stool and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She kissed his bare back. "But, you know that they love you," she said. "You have that. You always will."

Gil turned in her arms and touched her face. "Your parents loved you, too, Sara."

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. "In their way."

"Mine, as well."

"I don't want to be like that," she said. "I don't want my children to ever question how much I love them."

"You want to have children?"

Sara smiled shyly. "I suppose I do."

He returned her smile. "I do, too."

Kissing her nose, Gil stepped out of Sara's embrace and turned back to the task of making them breakfast.

* * *

><p><em>Sara's apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Thank you," Sara said as they walked from Gil's car to her apartment. "This has been the most amazing eighteen hours of my life."

"For me, too," Gil agreed, taking her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. "When can I see you again?"

"I work the next five days," Sara said. "I can't say for sure if I'll get out on time, but … can I call you if I do? Is that okay? I know it isn't planned out or anything, but –"

"I'll take what you have to offer," he said. They stopped at her door.

"Do you want to come in?" Sara asked.

He grinned. "If I do, I'm afraid it will be another eighteen hours before I leave."

"That's fine by me."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. "Love you," he whispered against her lips.

"I love you, too," she replied, kissing him again.

"I'll be waiting for your call."

With one last kiss, one last squeeze of her fingers, Gil took his leave. Sara opened her apartment door and walked slowly inside. She stared at her things as if she had never seen them before. Everything had changed.

"Amazing," she whispered.

* * *

><p><em>Gil's private car, en route to the Royal Palace, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Cath, where are you?"

"At home," she said. "What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to Mother and Father."

"Gil, what's wrong?" Catherine asked again.

"I need to tell them about Sara."

"We did that already."

"No, not about her – about her family."

"I'll meet you there."

* * *

><p><em>Private Residence, Royal Palace, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

Gil was waiting for Catherine in the kitchen when she arrived. She looked at him for a moment, then grinned.

"I thought so," she said.

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

She cast a glance toward the cook, who was chopping vegetables across the room, and leaned closer to her brother. "You slept with her, didn't you?"

"Annabelle? Please, Catherine. She's nearly sixty years old, and has been our cook almost my entire life."

"Don't play dumb with me, Your Highness," Catherine said. "You slept with Sara after you left my house yesterday!"

Gil flushed a deep shade of red. "I don't know how you can _possibly_ know that."

She grinned and squeezed his arm. "You just seem so … happy."

He grinned in spite of his embarrassment. "I am," he said. "She makes me happy."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

A bit surprised to have a visitor, Sara opened her door to find Greg standing on her doorstep. He looked terribly concerned, and nearly pushed his way in before Sara could even say hello. He closed the door behind him, locking it securely.

"You should have asked who was there," he said tensely.

"It's just you," Sara said blankly. "What's wrong, Greg?"

He held out his tablet. "I just saw this on SLY."

Sara took the small computer and stared at the screen in shock. It was a picture of Gil kissing her goodbye on her doorstep that morning.

"Oh, my God," she said, looking up at Greg in shock. "How could they possibly …?"

"Read the article," he said.

_SLY has worked to uncover more information about Sara Sidle, the woman the Royal Palace has confirmed to be Prince Gilbert's new love interest. We can exclusively report that she is a resident of downtown Wendelsburg, as confirmed by one of her neighbors. The neighbor has requested that the exact address of their shared apartment complex by kept out of this article, but was willing to provide additional information about Ms. Sidle._

"_She works for the police," the woman, who wishes to remain anonymous, informed us. She continued to state that Ms. Sidle is not a police officer, but a scientist employed by the police department in its forensics division. Calls to the WPD for comment have not been returned._

_When asked about Ms. Sidle's personal life, her neighbor seemed at a loss. "She keeps to herself," she said. "Always polite, always pleasant, but very quiet."_

_The neighbor also provided a photo of the couple, taken late this morning. "He appeared to be dropping her off," she said. "I don't remember seeing his car around any other time today."_

_SLY wishes the couple all the happiness in the world._

"Of course they do," Sara said bitterly. "If we break up, what will they have to report?"

"Sar …" Greg swallowed. "I know I've teased you a lot about this, but … I'm really sorry. I never realized …"

"It's okay," Sara said, giving him a small smile. "Gil warned me from the beginning that it would be like this. _This_ I was prepared for. It's the other stuff that blindsided me."

"Such as?"

"Normal people taking my picture," she said. "Being taken off cases because too many people know I'm there." She shook her head. "I'm not surprised that SLY got to my neighbors, but I am surprised that one of them would give me up so easily."

"Money talks," Greg said.

"It certainly does." Sara looked away.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

She looked back at him and shrugged. "I have to be don't I? This is my life now."

* * *

><p><em>Private Residence, Royal Palace, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Are you ready for this?" Catherine asked.

Gil nodded. "I'm ready."

They walked into the dining room, where their parents were already seated for dinner. The King and Queen smiled as Gil and Catherine took their seats.

"How lovely to see both of you," John said.

"Where are Warrick and Lindsey, Catherine?" Elizabeth asked.

"They already had dinner," Catherine replied. "Lindsey's bedtime is a bit too early to have dinner here on a school night."

"She's doing well in school?" John asked.

"Yes," Catherine replied.

John looked between Catherine and the silent Gil. "Which of you will tell us whatever it is you need to tell?"

Catherine and Gil exchanged a look. For as hands-off a father as he had been, King John possessed a surprising ability to see through his children.

"I need to talk to you about Sara," Gil said.

"Sara," Elizabeth repeated. She glanced at her husband. "Have things … changed? One way or the other?"

"I'm still seeing her," Gil said. He briefly considered telling them that he was in love with her, but decided against it. It was so new, so beautiful … he wasn't ready to share it just yet.

John nodded. "How is she handling the attention?"

"Quite well, thus far."

"What is it, then, that you need to tell us about her?"

"Before we went public with our relationship, we talked about the media attention she would receive," Gil said. "Her concern was how that would reflect upon me."

"Upon you?" John frowned. "What is she hiding, Gil?"

"It's nothing she's done," he said quickly. "It's her family history."

"All families have history," Elizabeth said carefully. "What is hers?"

"Her mother had schizophrenia," he said.

"Had?" John repeated.

"She died several years ago."

Both John and Elizabeth nodded.

"That is terrible, Gil, but I'm sure that with all the advocacy groups, the media knows enough not to exploit it," Elizabeth said.

"There's more." He took a deep breath. "Her mother, while not taking her medication, stabbed her father in his sleep. He died."

"Her mother killed her father?" Elizabeth gasped.

"Yes."

"Oh, dear." She looked at her husband.

"Gilbert, are you very serious about this girl?" John asked.

"Yes," Gil said, unsure of where his father was going with his questions.

"And, you're looking at her not only as a potential wife, but as a potential queen?"

"I'm sure everyone would love her," he said.

John exhaled. "Schizophrenia … violence …"

"Mother just said that the media would leave it alone!" Catherine said. "And, she's right. There are so many advocacy groups … the country would be up in arms to protect this woman who had an illness."

"That isn't what this is about, Catherine," Elizabeth said. "Gil, think about this. Mental illnesses can be genetic …"

"Sara's fine," he said. "She would have shown signs by now, I'm sure."

"We're not thinking about Sara, Gil," John said. "We're thinking about her children – _your_ children, if you marry her."

"There are treatments –" Catherine began.

"Those clearly did not work for her mother," Elizabeth interrupted.

"That was a long time ago," Gil said. "Sara was a teenager. Medicine has improved … it's improving all the time. If something were to happen … we could treat it."

John and Elizabeth exchanged an uneasy glance.

"Our family history is full of stories like this," Catherine said. "Think of how many generations it took to bring physical health and mental balance back into the family."

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "And, to reintroduce something like that now …"

"Oh, Mother," Catherine said. "Don't you realize that it's been there all along? I'm sure we haven't completely lost those genes. They're just weaker now."

"I'm not sure you're helping, Cath," Gil said.

"Look," Catherine said, "I've met Sara. She's a lovely person, and she clearly adores Gil, who just as clearly adores her. She's not fake or false, and … I think it's very hypocritical for us to write her off for something that isn't her fault, and that our own family has experienced as well."

Elizabeth turned to Gil. "Catherine has met Sara?"

He nodded. "They both wanted to meet one another, so the three of us had dinner."

Elizabeth looked at John, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Bring her for dinner here, Gil," he said. "We want to meet her, too."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I hope you enjoy this one! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

><p><em>Royal Residence, Kendell Hall, Kendell<em>

"Have you talked to Sara about meeting Their Majesties yet?"

Gil shook his head. "I haven't had that much time to talk to her since our dinner with them. She's been working a lot."

"Right," Catherine said. "Keeping us safe."

Gil frowned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not. I don't mean that at all. I just think it's a tough job – especially for a woman who's dating the Prince of Graccia."

Gil smiled slightly. "She said something along those lines once."

"And?"

He shrugged. "It's her job. If she's happy with it, so be it."

"For now," Catherine said.

He nodded. "For now."

Catherine let that subject drop, but returned to her original point. "So, when is this dinner going to be?"

"I don't know. I need to talk to Sara about it."

"Can I come?"

Gil laughed. "You sound like you're eager to watch the show."

"Well … sort of. But, I also think that Sara's going to need all the support she can get."

"Yes, that's true."

Catherine studied him for a moment. "And …"

"And, what?"

"You're going to need all the support _you_ can get, too."

* * *

><p><em>Crime Lab, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

Sara walked across the parking lot, pleased to be leaving work at the scheduled end of her shift for the first time that week. She took out her phone to call Gil as she climbed into her car.

"Hello, Sara," he said, answering on the second ring.

"Hi," she said. "What are you up to?"

"I was just at my sister's house," he said. "I'm on my way home now."

"Are you busy tonight? I finally got off work on time, and …" She blushed a deep shade of red.

"And?" he asked, his smile carrying to her.

"I can't believe _I'm_ asking _you_ out," she said.

He laughed. "Aren't you a liberated woman? I thought all those gender roles were long gone."

"They are," Sara affirmed. "Except when talking to a prince."

"Don't stand on ceremony for me," Gil said, still chuckling. "What are your plans for us for tonight?"

"Would it offend you if I asked you to come over and watch a movie?" Sara asked.

"Why would that offend me?"

"Because … it's not … fancy. Or special, really."

"I'll be with you," he said. "That makes it special."

Sara grinned, feeling happiness spread through her. "Come over at seven."

"I'll be there."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

Promptly at seven, there was a knock on Sara's door. Beaming in giddy anticipation, Sara opened the door and jumped into Gil's arms. Laughing, he backed them into her apartment, holding her tightly to his chest.

"Miss me?" he teased.

"You have no idea," she said, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Yes, I do," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

Their kiss quickly escalated, and soon had them fumbling deeper into Sara's apartment.

"Wait," Sara gasped, breaking the kiss.

"What's wrong?" Gil asked, looking a bit dazed as he stared into her eyes.

"This wasn't supposed to happen yet."

"What?"

Sara bit her lip and looked down, then up again. "I had our whole evening planned. We were going to have dinner and watch a movie, _then_ get to this part."

Gil laughed. "So, I'm rushing things?"

"Well, it's not that I'm not _ready_ for you to rush things, but …"

He laughed again and hugged her, kissing her forehead. "If you want to watch a movie first, we can."

Sara looked at him for a moment, then took his face between her hands. She kissed him soundly. "Forget the movie. My bedroom is this way."

Laughing, Gil chased her down the hall to her bedroom.

* * *

><p>Later, wrapped up safely in Gil's arms and her tangled sheets, Sara kissed her prince's chest.<p>

"I do love you," she said.

He smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. "I love you, too." He took a deep breath. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Sara nodded against him. "What's on your mind?"

"I was talking to my parents about you the other day."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." He hesitated. "I … Sara, I told them about your parents."

She rolled over so she could rest her chin on his chest and look up at him. "Why?"

"We've talked about the impact the media has on our relationship," he said. "I was afraid someone would dig up that information and print it before I had a chance to talk to my parents about it. I'd rather they hear it from me than from some tabloid."

Sara nodded. "That makes sense. How did they take it?"

"Not as badly as I had feared."

Sara smiled. "So, no harm done?"

"That remains to be seen."

"Okay, now you're not making sense."

"Honey … they want to meet you."

Goosebumps broke out all over Sara. "To meet me?"

"Yes." He smiled slightly. "They seemed a bit put out that Catherine got to meet you before they did. So, they've invited you for dinner."

"When?" Sara squeaked. Terror like she had never known filled her.

"We can find a day that works for all of us." He tightened his arms around her. "Are you okay with this?"

Sara shook her head. "Gil, this isn't just meeting my boyfriend's parents. It's meeting the _King_ and _Queen_!"

"Sara, don't think of it like that."

"How can I not? Oh, what will I wear?"

"Sara, please …"

"I'm sorry, Gil, but I really think I'm entitled to panic over this one!"

He sighed. "How about if I call Catherine? She can help you with what you're going to wear, at least."

"Well … don't call her right now."

He smiled. "No. I know she wouldn't be able to see me, but I still can't quite handle the idea of talking to my sister in this state."

Sara couldn't help but smile at that. "Gil …"

"Yes?"

"Do you think they'll like me?" she asked in a little voice.

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against it. "They'll love you. I just hope _you'll_ like _them_."

"How can I not? They're the people who gave me _you_."

He reached for her, pulling her up so that he could kiss her lips. Sara broke the kiss as he rolled them over so that he was on top of her.

"Gil … seriously? You stress me out beyond belief, and now you want to make love?"

"I've heard it's excellent stress relief."

Sara's laughter quickly turned to moans as his lips descended on her.

"Well," she gasped, "I suppose it's worth a try."

* * *

><p><em>Private Residence, Royal Palace, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"You're here," Gil said blankly as he walked into the kitchen, where Catherine was sitting at the counter, nursing a mimosa.

"Mother wanted to spend some quality time with her granddaughter on her school holiday," Catherine said. "They're in the garden."

"Oh," Gil said, pouring his own mimosa.

"Where have you been, might I ask?"

He blushed.

"With Sara?" Catherine asked with a knowing smile.

"Yes."

"Where did you two go?"

"To her place."

Catherine glanced at the clock. "How long were you with her?"

Gil sighed, knowing exactly what she was asking. "Yes, Catherine, I stayed overnight with her and didn't leave until she had to go to work today."

Catherine grinned. "Good for you."

"Listen, I need to talk to you about her."

"Okay."

Gil sat down across from her. "I talked to her about coming for dinner."

"How did that go?"

"She's scared out of her mind."

Catherine sighed. "Understandable, I suppose."

"Yes," Gil agreed. "She's even worried about what she should wear."

Catherine smiled. "Give me her number."

Gil's eyes opened wide, and Catherine laughed.

"You, dear brother, are useless in this situation. I'll talk to her, and help her pick something out."

"I told her I'd ask you to help her.."

"Well, if you want to ask just so you can keep your promise, go right ahead."

He grinned. "Catherine, will you talk to Sara and help her decide what to wear for dinner with Mother and Father?"

"Why, Gil, I'd love to."

* * *

><p><em>Crime Lab, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"Hey, Sar."

Sara looked up as Nick came into the layout room. "Hi," she said.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Probably because you're staring at a folder that isn't even open."

Sara sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm not really okay," she said at last.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Remember when you told me to pretend that Prince Gilbert is just any other guy?"

"Yeah," Nick said, sitting down across from her. "I'd say it was good advice."

"For a while," Sara said.

"What happened?" Nick asked.

Sara exhaled. "He wants me to meet his parents."

Nick's mouth dropped open. "When?"

"That's still to be determined."

To Sara's great surprise, Nick burst into laughter. She frowned.

"How is this funny to you?"

"It's not, Sara, it's not."

"Then, why are you laughing?"

"I just … Sara, do _not_ let Greg find out about this. His head will explode!"

Sara smiled slightly. "True. Keep it to yourself, okay?"

"For sure." He stopped laughing. "And, listen, I'm not trying to be insensitive. I can't even imagine how stressful this must be for you."

"Really?" Sara asked, suddenly relieved. Having her feelings validated made all the difference in the world.

"Yeah, for sure. I think your man's parents are a little different from the people we're used to meeting."

"Yeah, that's for sure." She shook her head. "Gil and his sister are so _normal_, though. Maybe their parents are, too."

"Maybe," Nick acknowledged.

Sara's phone rang, interrupting their conversation. She picked it up, frowning at the _Private_ _Caller_ that showed on her display.

"This is Sara," she said in greeting.

"Hi, Sara. This is Catherine – Gil's sister."

"Oh!" Sara exclaimed. "Hi."

"Gil gave me your number," Catherine said. "He said you've been invited to dinner with our parents."

"Yes," Sara said.

"And, he said you were a bit worried about your wardrobe for the event."

"Yes, I am."

"Okay. May I help you with it? I've been to a dinner or two with Their Majesties in my time."

"Would you?" Sara asked gratefully. "I'd appreciate it so much."

"I'd love to," Catherine said. "When is a good time?"

"I'll be home this evening, and all day tomorrow – I'm off."

"I'll come over this evening. Maybe around eight?"

"That sounds perfect," Sara said, suddenly a nervous wreck.

"Great! I'll talk to Gil to get your address, and I'll be at your place at eight."

"See you then," Sara said.

"Bye, Sara."

Sara ended the call, and looked at Nick in shock.

"What?" he asked. "Who was that?"

"Her Royal Highness, the Princess Catherine," Sara said, clearly dazed. "She'll be at my apartment at eight tonight to help me pick out something to wear to dinner with Their Majesties, the King and Queen of Vespuccin."

"Oh, Sara," Nick said. "You'd _really_ better make sure Greg doesn't hear _any_ of this."

In spite of her near-paralyzing fear, Sara couldn't help but smile.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Toward the end of this chapter, I drew a lot of inspiration from the relationship between the Spanish public and Letizia, who was on her way to becoming their princess about eight years ago. Finding a way to make it work in this story was actually a lot of fun, even though I have a feeling you'll all be coming at me with nastiness after you read it. I really hope you enjoy what happens!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

><p><em>Sara's Apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

She knew that she shouldn't do it. And, yet, she couldn't stop herself.

It was all Greg's fault, really. He was the one who had first shown her SLY's website.

Sara sat in her apartment, combing the website for any new pictures of her and Prince Gil. She knew that they had not been _out_ together recently, but they had certainly spent time together, and her neighbors had already proven that they were not adverse to selling pictures of her. She hated the idea that someone who lived so close to her could do something so horrible.

Biting her lip, she scrolled through the page labeled "Royal News." She had already seen the few pictures of her and Gil, but did find a new one of Catherine and Warrick out to dinner. They were holding hands and laughing. Sara couldn't help but smile at how happy they looked, but she wondered if the attention bothered them as much as it bothered her.

A knock on her door interrupted Sara's thoughts. She looked at the clock, and realized that it was eight. She closed her internet browser and shut her laptop.

Nearly shaking with nerves, she crossed to her door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to see Catherine standing on the other side.

"Hello!" Catherine said, stepping inside as Sara opened the door wider. "This was easy to find." She winked. "I think I even managed to make it without having my picture taken. There is something to be said for that."

Sara smiled. "Did you bring your security with you?"

"Didn't Gil tell you? I don't do that."

"Is that … safe?"

Catherine shrugged. "Safe enough." She sighed. "I take security when there is a need. Just coming here, there really isn't a need."

"I don't know about that," Sara said. "My neighbors seem pretty eager to sell me out to the press."

Catherine looked at her sharply. "Does it bother you?"

"Not all that much."

She nodded, though the look in her eyes said that she did not entirely believe Sara. "Shall we get down to business?"

Sara smiled helplessly. "I suppose."

Catherine grinned. "All right, then. Show me what you were thinking of wearing for dinner with my parents."

"I really don't know what I should wear." A look of slight panic crossed Sara's features. "I don't have a clue what I'm getting myself into with this dinner."

"No," Catherine agreed, "you don't." She smiled. "Show me your dresses. I'll help you find one."

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Catherine was shaking her head. Sara looked at her in desperation.<p>

"_None_ of them?" she squeaked.

"Well, maybe this one, but you said Gil has already seen you in it, so …"

"That was so long ago, though. Maybe he won't remember."

"Sara, men just want you _think_ they won't remember," Catherine said. "Didn't you say you wore it for the Prince of Graccia ceremony?"

"Yes."

Catherine smiled. "That's when you first met. And, believe me, that is a day – and a dress – Gil is _never_ going to forget."

Sara smiled. "I'll never forget, either."

Catherine's smile widened. "You said you're off tomorrow, right?"

"Right."

She grinned. "I'll see you at nine tomorrow morning."

"Okay … wait! Why?"

"Because you and I are going shopping."

* * *

><p><em>Shopping District, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

True to her word, Catherine arrived with her car and driver the next morning. She whisked Sara into the car and to the main shopping district of Wendelsburg.

"You want to shop _here_?" Sara asked as she stepped out of the car.

"Why not?" Catherine asked.

"Um …" Sara looked up at the towering Christian Dior store in front of them. "It's a little out of my price range."

"Oh," Catherine said. She looked down, clearly uncomfortable.

"We can go a few blocks that way," Sara suggested, pointing down the street. "That's where I usually shop."

"North of Barrington?"

Sara nodded, practically holding her breath. The expensive, designer stores were all south of Barrington Street – and, she could not afford a single one of them. She hoped Catherine would not be offended by shopping north of Barrington, but if she was seriously expecting Sara to make a purchase, they would have to spend the day in the lower-priced stores. Sara was on the verge of saying so when Catherine spoke.

"All right, then," Catherine said. "Lead on."

* * *

><p>Sara had never enjoyed shopping. It was not something that she did for fun, or because she had extra time on her hands. She shopped for what she needed when she needed it.<p>

Catherine was a different story. She clearly loved shopping, and was fascinated by the shops she and Sara visited.

"Where should we start?" Catherine asked.

"Here," Sara suggested, indicating the nearest store.

As she walked toward the door, a flash went off, followed by another and another. She turned to Catherine with a frown.

"Keep walking," Catherine said, opening the door.

"What was that?" Sara asked.

"The media," Catherine replied. "They love to watch me shop."

Sara stared at her.

"Oh, Sara," she said with a laugh. "You'll get used to it. Come on. Let's shop."

"Okay," Sara said slowly, following Catherine into the store.

"I've never shopped here before," Catherine said, fingering a blouse as they walked through the store to the dresses.

"Really?" Sara asked. She still felt uneasy after their encounter with the paparazzi, but Catherine's nonchalance about it was rather … calming.

"Really," Catherine affirmed. She smiled apologetically. "You'll think I'm a terrible snob, but I've never been to this part of the shopping district."

"I don't think that makes you a snob," Sara said, rifling through the dresses. "I think it just means you're … used to having nicer things than I am."

Catherine laughed. "That's an incredibly polite way to put it, Sara."

Sara smiled at her and held up a dress, finally feeling at ease. "What do you think of this one?"

Catherine cocked her head to the side as she looked at it. "I think we can do better."

"Okay …"

Once Catherine had acclimated to the selection that Sara's budget afforded them, she began to search in earnest. Sara had to admit that Catherine made the process fun; she didn't even care when the Princess took her to four different stores and made her try on at least twenty dresses.

At the fourth store, Sara walked into the fitting room with an armful of dresses. She tried each one on and stepped out of the small room, modeling it for Catherine, who was acknowledging the staring clerks and patrons with smiles. Catherine shook her head repeatedly, effectively vetoing each dress in turn.

Finally, at long last, Sara pulled a purple dress from the hanger.

"This is the last one I have in here!" she called to Catherine, who was waiting patiently to see this final dress.

"Does that mean you want me to find another one for you?" Catherine asked.

Sara laughed as she pulled the dress over her head, but stopped as soon as she saw her reflection.

"Sara? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said. She turned to look at the back of the dress. "I think we may have found it."

Sara stepped out of the fitting room and looked at Catherine. Catherine's eyes lit up.

"Yes," she said. "This one is perfect." She grinned. "Now we just have to find the shoes to match."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's Apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

"This has been fun," Catherine said as she helped Sara carry her new dress and shoes to her apartment. "I can't believe that I've missed out on such good shopping all my life!"

Sara laughed. "You should hang out with me more often. I'll bet you'd enjoy how the other half lives."

"I enjoyed today," Catherine said.

Sara grinned. "I'll take you to a dive bar next."

"Really?" Catherine asked eagerly. "That would be fun! Can we go to a thrift store, too? I've always wanted to see what's in those."

Sara laughed again. "Sure. If you'd like."

"I would like." Catherine hung the dress in Sara's closet. "I'll tell Gil that you're ready for dinner when Mother and Father are."

Sara shivered slightly. "I am nervous about it," she confessed.

"I'd imagine you are," Catherine said. She squeezed Sara's hand. "Warrick and I will be there – I'll see if Mother and Father want Lindsey there, too. She always manages to keep their attention away from everything else."

Sara smiled. "That would be a big help."

"Don't worry, Sara," Catherine said. "We're not going to let you go through this alone."

* * *

><p>Sara was surprised to hear a knock on her door later in the afternoon. Frowning slightly, she crossed her apartment to open the door.<p>

Her frown melted into a beaming smile at the sight of Gil standing on her doorstep, holding a rose. He smiled at her.

"Hello, love," he said.

"Hi." Sara opened the door wider to admit him.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Gil leaned in to kiss Sara. When he pulled back, he offered her the rose.

"Thank you," she said as she accepted it. "What's all this about?"

"Catherine told me she took you shopping," he said. "I wanted to see how you were holding up."

Sara giggled. "We had fun."

"You're sure?"

Sara laughed again. "You don't like shopping with her, do you?"

"I don't like shopping in general," he said. "But, no, shopping with Catherine has never been one of my favorite activities."

Sara smiled. "Well, I made it."

"Will you show me what you bought?"

Sara tilted her head to the side. "No," she said after a moment's pause.

"No?" he repeated.

She shook her head, smiling playfully. "No. I want you to be surprised when we have dinner."

He smiled. "Okay." He touched her cheek. "And, even though you won't let me see the dress, I still think you deserve a little reward."

"A reward for what?"

"Perhaps I should say a 'thank you'," he said, taking her hand. "Come on. We're going out."

* * *

><p><em>Bay of Vinccenzo<em>

"You brought me to the beach?" Sara pushed her breeze-tossed hair back from her face as they climbed out of Gil's car. She turned to look at him, giving him a dazzling smile. "This is perfect!"

He smiled and put his arm around her, pulling her against him. He pressed a kiss against her temple. "I thought it would do us good to relax for a little bit."

"You were right."

He released her waist, and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "Let's go for a walk."

As soon as they reached the sand, both Sara and Gil stepped out of their shoes. Sara bent over to pick hers up, but Gil stopped her.

"Leave them here. They'll wait for us."

Smiling, she straightened up and took his hand again. "Let's go walk in the water."

He nodded, and they walked to the edge of the surf. They walked along slowly, letting the water rush over their feet and ankles. Sara looked up at Gil with a bright smile.

"Thank you for bringing me here. I love this place."

"I do, too," he said, tightening his grip on her hand. "Thank you, Sara, for everything you're doing for me and my family."

"Your family? I don't think I'm doing much for them." She smiled. "Well, I did just promise Catherine that I'd take her to a dive bar and a thrift store, but that's not much of a sacrifice, if you must have the truth."

Gil laughed. "A dive bar and a thrift store?"

"I suggested the dive bar, but she requested the thrift store."

Gil smiled and shook his head. "Well, I'm glad you two are making friends."

"She's sweet."

"No, she isn't," Gil said with a smile. "But, she's incredibly loyal, and I'm glad she likes you."

Sara frowned slightly. "I'm glad, too, I suppose."

"I just think that it's good to have allies in my family."

"Are we going to war?"

"In a manner of speaking." He took a deep breath. "Sara, my parents suggested Friday for dinner."

"That's in three days!"

"Do you have plans? Do you have to work?"

Sara shook her head. "No, Friday is fine. I can be there for dinner."

"Good." He squeezed her hand. "It's not going to be an easy night, Sara."

"I don't expect it to be."

"If you don't want to do this …"

"Gil." Sara stopped walking, and pulled Gil's hand, turning him to face her. "I love you. I'm willing to go through whatever I have to with your family if it means that I can be with you."

"I love you, too," he said. "I really, really do."

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Sara smiled and kissed him again.

"Friday will be fun."

Gil laughed. "No, it won't be. But, it'll be over soon enough."

* * *

><p><em>Sara's Apartment, Downtown Wendelsburg<em>

It was becoming a nightly ritual.

After Gil dropped her off at home, Sara found herself at her computer, going straight to SLY's website.

This time, she didn't even need to click on the Royal News tab. The headline screamed at her as soon as the page loaded.

_THE PRINCESS GOES SHOPPING_

A montage of pictures of Sara and Catherine walking into several different stores was under the headline, followed by a link to the story. Sara couldn't stop herself; she clicked the link.

_Princess Catherine was spotted out shopping today, in the company of Sara Sidle, romantic partner of her brother, Prince Gilbert. The two women visited several shops in Wendelsburg's shopping district, all north of Barrington Street. This shopping expedition was far cry from the Princess' usual South of Barrington jaunts. At the end of their trip, Ms. Sidle was seen carrying a large bag, suggesting that she was the one doing the purchasing._

Though the story was quite short, Sara noted that she had plenty of room left to scroll. Thinking that there could be more pictures to see, she scrolled down.

Her eyes widened as she realized that the story was followed not by more pictures, but by comments from other readers.

_royalwatcher29: Who does this Sara woman think she is? She might be banging the prince, but that doesn't give her the right to hang out with the princess like she's a royal!_

_clarkkent2: She's a commoner!1! _

_jacksmom: Sara thinks she's better than she is. I'm sick of seeing her. Move on, media!_

_music4life: You mean move on Prince Gilbert, jacksmom. The media won't drop that skank until he does._

_princessme: Back off, everyone! Stop being mean to Sara just because you're jealous of her!_

_royalwatcher29: princessme, get a clue! I'm happily married! Not jealous of some cop who managed to snag a prince. I just don't think she should be so chummy with the whole family._

_princessme: Why not? Leave her alone._

Sara slammed her laptop shut. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the device. The comments still seemed to dance in front of her eyes, even though she could no longer see them.

She burst into tears.


End file.
